


Without Grace

by Beelsebutt



Series: The Third Wheel [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Excessive Drinking, F/M, Homophobia, Infidelity, Love Triangles, M/M, Though You Might Have to Wait for the Sequel, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:51:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beelsebutt/pseuds/Beelsebutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>However, there was anything but work circling in Harry's mind at that moment. His thoughts were engulfed by a red-haired man from the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Undisclosed

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Ei armoa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2680820) by [Beelsebutt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beelsebutt/pseuds/Beelsebutt). 



> Translation betas: Zsanya (1–6) & Cloudy (5–12)
> 
>  **A/N:** Without Grace is a sequel to my old oneshot 'The Third Wheel' (first part of this series) and it begins three years after Harry left the country. Hermione and Ron are happily married — or so _he_ thinks. Chapters are mainly PG, and if there is more mature material in a chapter, there will be an extra warning in the beginning of that chapter. So, please, note the warnings in the beginning of each chapter!
>
>> This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> (fyi, I started writing this story before Deathly Hallows was published, so it's only a coincidence that canon-wise it was Fred, not George, who was lost during the war...)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Disclaimer! I do not own the Potters, J.K. Rowling does. Nor do I own the song mentioned here. I'm not making any money with this, so don't sue!_

  
**PART I**

 

 

Chapter 1: Undisclosed  


 

 

"I have to leave now!" Hermione yelled and glanced at the mirror again. Ron arrived at the hallway and wrapped his arms around his wife.

"Mmh, gonna miss you."

"I'll be gone just for a couple of nights," she reminded and gave him a kiss, stepped out of his reach, waved and vanished.

Ron waved back for a moment, with a sad smile lingering on his lips. He really tried to understand Hermione's work trips and to support her but sometimes, like at that time, it was very hard. The previous weekend she had been at home but all the three weekends before that she had been at work. Ron really didn't like being alone.

He grabbed an apple from a basket on top of the drawer and munched it, immersed in his thoughts. His life was, perhaps, too centred around Hermione. At least partly that was because Ron didn't really have any close friends; not after Harry had vanished in thin air, not even writing back. At first, Ron's letters had been bewildered, then pleading, finally angry – but it had been all for nothing. He had sworn to forget such a back stabbing joke of a friend. He had found out from Ministry that Harry was still alive but no-one seemed to know where exactly he was.

The silence in the flat started to make Ron feel uneasy so, after finishing his apple, he decided to visit the Burrow. Mum and Dad were always delighted to see him, and sometimes he even stayed for the night. That weekend there was a chance that Fred and Ginny, even Charlie would come, too, so there was a good possibility for some Quidditch. It had been long since they had played, and the chance to get together with his siblings was thrilling – to be like they used to be, just fooling around and having fun without a worry in the world.

Ron mentally approved his plan, fetched his broom and Disapparated without even bothering to pack.

 

"Smells great, Mum," Ron said as he stepped in the kitchen, inhaling deeply. "You've gotta be the best cook ever!"

"How nice that you dropped by," Molly replied and reached out to hug her youngest son. "Although it's probably best that Hermione didn't hear that, she's always so touchy about her cooking," she continued, laughing, kissed Ron on the cheek and ruffled his red hair. "Is she coming later?"

"She's working again," Ron replied, and his smile faded; he really didn't want to talk about that.

"Are there others here?"

"No, not yet. Ginny will come later this evening, and Charlie said he'll come tomorrow for dinner. Fred couldn't make it. He's supposed to be doing some product development or something," Molly explained and went back to the stove. "Have you seen Fred lately? I hope he doesn't worry over George anymore?"

"Oh, we haven't seen him for a while, maybe for a couple of months. I'm sure he's just busy with the store," Ron assured, his mouth full of bread. "I read from the Prophet that he's expanding to Hogsmeade. Did you know about it?"

"That's true. Pity that the family has to learn it from the paper," Molly said, disapproving but clearly delighted. "Do you remember that Jordan boy from Hogwarts?" Ron nodded. "Well, he's going to manage the Hogsmeade store."

"Lee? Wow, they're going to have so much fun!" Ron grinned.

Molly smiled and wiped her hands on her apron.

"Now, up you go. Take your things to your room and go wash your hands, dinner is almost ready."

Ron nodded and climbed to his old room where Chudley Cannons still flew all over the walls. He looked through the window and smiled; it was good to be back home.

*

Hermione glanced over her shoulder. There was nothing suspicious around but she still wanted to be absolutely sure. She slipped in to the room she had previously booked and continued straight to the bathroom. She locked the door and started the diversion.

After a few moments she Apparated in a dimly lit penthouse where she was welcomed with deliciously smelling food and...

"Hermione?"

"Yes," she breathed and let her bag slip on the floor before running straight to the welcoming arms. "I missed you so much!"

"Mm, me too," Fred replied and dropped small kisses on Hermione's neck, advancing gradually to kiss hungrily her lips. Hermione reciprocated earnestly, pressing her hips against his.

Fred's hands travelled on Hermione's back and her bottom, finally slipping under her thin shirt, caressing the soft curve of her breast. Hermione gasped and opened Fred's zip impatiently, wrapping her fingers around his emerging member. Fred sighed against her neck and lifted her on top of the kitchen counter. He slid her skirt up and spread her legs, settling himself between them.

"No panties, smart girl."

Fred grinned and moistened his lips with his tongue while stroking her pussy. Hermione's breath hitched, and she gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles white, but when Fred rolled his thumb on her clit and pushed two fingers inside of her, she cried aloud. Fred bit gently the protruding nipple through her shirt.

"You're so wet," he said with a low voice, massaging her moist folds. Hermione whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut tightly.

"Fred..."

"Yes," Fred answered the unasked question. He pulled Hermione all the way to the edge of the counter and thrust roughly into her, grunting.

"Oh, Merlin, it feels so... unbelievably..."

Hermione wrapped her legs around Fred. Her bum ached as it pressed hard against the edge of the counter but she couldn't have cared less. She had waited for this moment for a whole two weeks, and with every single thrust she felt the knot that had been growing inside her come apart until she was only able to pant and whimper. As she came, she pulsed around Fred, making him come, too, after a couple of sharp pushes.

Fred gasped for air and leaned heavily on Hermione's shoulder, trying to keep up in spite of the fact that his legs felt as wobbly as if they had just been cursed with a Jelly-Legs Jinx. His jeans lay crumbled around his ankles, and he had lost half of his shirt buttons when Hermione's hands had searched anxiously for bare skin to touch.

"Love, my back aches," Hermione mumbled against Fred's shoulder after a while.

Fred kicked off his jeans and simply lifted Hermione on his arms, carrying her into his bedroom where they collapsed on the bed, their arms and legs intertwining tightly with each other.

"I gather you also missed me?" Fred puffed against Hermione's cheek.

Hermione gave a short laugh and stroked Fred's red hair. He had fastened it on the nape of his neck with a ribbon but more than one lock had broken free, now framing his face.

"Something like that," Hermione agreed playfully, and tugged Fred's face a bit nearer. She ghosted her lips along his brow and tasted the salty sweat. "I love you."

"And, I love you," Fred breathed.

They lay for a while, basking in the afterglow, until Fred broke the spell.

"Did you have any trouble getting here?"

For a moment, Hermione was angry at Fred. Did he have to remind her about the reality right now when they finally were together after waiting for so long. She didn't reply, just closed her eyes and lay her head on his gently rising chest.

Leaving had been hard, it was always hard because it made her really comprehend how horrible wife she was. Usually, when being with Fred these thoughts faded but that time around Hermione couldn't help thinking of how dishonest she was to Ron. She lied to him, all the time, but even worse was that she had fallen in love with his brother.

Nevertheless, her need to be close to Fred outweighed her sense of justice. She knew that she had to end their relationship before anyone else found out about it but she couldn't. Instead, she had, once again, hopped all around England, Apparated here and there trying to shake off any potential followers because while she knew Ron would be crushed if he ever found out, she couldn't bear to be without Fred. Not anymore.

Fred kissed Hermione's temple, awakening her from her thoughts.

"No trouble. But I was careful anyway. I'm sure no-one knows I'm here."

"Good," Fred whispered and stroked her hair. "Mum wanted me to go to the Burrow for the weekend but I said I had to work."

Hermione listened to Fred's steadily beating heart. She loved him, so much, but couldn't bring herself to leave Ron, let alone telling him about the affair. Ron had always been shadowed by his brothers, and Hermione could easily picture how he would feel to realise that he had lost his wife to one of them.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione wailed aloud, not even bothering to hide her tears. "Should we stop seeing each other? I can't stand it if Ron finds out."

"No way!" Fred crushed Hermione in his arms. "I don't want to give you up!"

"Me neither, but this is still wrong," Hermione mumbled, her fingers twirling in Fred's hair.

"We'll figure something out," Fred said, and Hermione sighed.

Truth be told, Fred had no idea whatsoever on how to solve the situation. They hadn't really befriended each other before after Hermione and Ron had married but after that they had soon realised how well they got along. After Hermione's childhood stiffness had given in, she had become an open and fascinating person whose wide knowledge of almost everything made conversations interesting. On the other hand, George's death had stabilized Fred, not to mention his growing up, and after the Second Wizarding War he had spent most of his nights in Hermione and Ron's house, talking and talking about everything.

When Ron had retired, Fred and Hermione's topics had deepened still, and they didn't always concern George. Little by little Hermione, too, had opened up to Fred more than to anyone else before, and they had been just a short step away from consummating their relationship. An innocent good-bye peck in the light of the rising sun had been replaced by a cautious kiss, and finally deepened into a passionate burst of their confined emotions. Ron hadn't waken up when Hermione had Disapparated to Fred's flat.

It wasn't until later that the guilt had come. When passion had evolved into warmth, and fast sex was just a warm-up for just spending time together, Ron flickered in their minds more often. He seemed to stand between their love; the impervious, kind but also gullible man that neither one of them wanted to hurt. Because both Hermione and Fred knew that if Ron ever found out about their affair, he would surely be devastated. The situation was impossible and getting progressively worse.

In the evening, Hermione returned to her hotel room, threw some Floo powder into the fireplace and let the green flames engulf her head. She hated every single second she spent telling lies about her busy day at work. Ron's lips tasted unfamiliar compared to Fred's, and gone was the warmth she remembered from their wedding.

When Hermione exited the Floo she rushed to the large four-poster and hugged the pillow, crying tears of shame.


	2. On the Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron settled himself unknowingly on the same spot where his brother had been lying just a couple of minutes earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> **Chapter Rating: MATURE**

  
**Chapter 2: On the Edge**   


"Arthur and I were wondering when we are going to start having grandchildren," Molly gossiped while fumbling around with the plates. Hermione failed to cover her grimace before her Mother-in-law turned around.

"Oh, poor child! I didn't mean that they should start popping out right now!" Molly exclaimed, alarmed, and pulled Hermione into a clumsy, one-armed hug still holding her wand in her other hand.

"It's okay," Hermione assured but kept her eyes on the plates hovering in mid-air. "But we aren't going to have a baby right now."

"Yes, yes, what with your job being what it is," Molly said sympathetically and flicked her wand; the plates set themselves beatifically on the table.

Hermione sighed under her breath. She knew how much Molly and Arthur wanted to see little red-haired Weasleys running around the gnomes, and no other of their children seemed to be as promising to produce offspring as Ron.

Molly's thoughts wandered along the same path as Hermione's as she stirred the dinner. Ginny had thrown herself into her career ever since Harry had left her after Hermione and Ron's wedding. As for Charlie, he spent raucous bachelor life among the dragons and showed no interest in the opposite sex – unless it had four legs and leather wings. Even then, his curiosity was strictly professional. Bill and Fleur had been travelling around the world for over a year now, and according to their letters, they showed no interest in settling down.

Molly's hopes for grandchildren had been crushed one after another but she still had some hope left for Ron, or actually for Hermione. Even Fred didn't have a girlfriend nor did he seem interested in dating; well, not before now. Molly wondered a while whether she should ask Hermione about Fred. On one hand, she didn't want to appear nosy but on the other hand, she was curious.

As she hovered the freshly baked bread from the oven her thirst for knowledge drowned her caution.

"Have you heard about Fred?" she blurted, and it was lucky for Hermione that at the same moment the cutlery drawer clanked open; she had yelped aloud, startled by the question.

"No, not lately. How so?" Hermione replied trying to keep her expression neutral.

"I was just wondering. He hasn't been around for a while. I'm sure you've heard about the second store he and Lee opened? At Hogsmeade?" Molly lifted the bread basket on the table and smiled at Hermione.

"Yes, Ron told me," Hermione smiled back. "It's wonderful that Fred got such a pleasant help."

"Fred hasn't told you about a girlfriend?" Molly glanced at Hermione who flushed lightly.

"No he hasn't. You mean he has one?"

"Well, he hasn't _told_ me anything," Molly huffed, "but I'm pretty sure about it. He's acts all different nowadays. He's always been so transparent, well, for me, at least."

"How do you mean, different?" Hermione asked cautiously studying Molly's expression. Had she figured something out?

"Oh, well. He's always going somewhere and he's strangely restless. Just like when George was still alive," Molly explained.

"Maybe he's just gotten over of George's death?" Hermione offered hopingly.

"No, there's something else going on. So, he hasn't mentioned a specific woman?"

"Um, no. Actually, we haven't seen him for a while," Hermione stammered.

"I understand. Well, maybe he'll tell us tonight," Molly said and got up. She smoothed the front of her robes while peering to the front yard. "They're something, these Weasley boys," she chuckled.

"How so?"

"I hardly lay the kettle on the table when there's a knock on the door," Molly explained and pointed at the two red-haired men who were getting nearer the Burrow. Hermione's face fell.

"Welcome, boys, dinner's ready!" Molly embraced her sons. Fred grinned at Hermione over her mother's shoulder.

"I might have guessed that you'd have something warming up," Fred said, smiling, and pressed a kiss on her mother's cheek. "Hi, Hermione," he hollered and sat down by the table.

"Hi," Hermione couched and stared at her plate. Ron sat beside her.

"Hi, sweetie," he whispered and brushed his lips on her cheek before turning to his mother. "I'm starving!"

"Good," Molly replied and grabbed the ladle.

 

For Hermione, the dinner was a torture. She didn't dare to get lost in her thoughts, knowing how sharp Molly's eyes were. Also, Ron was ranting about the coming night, and she had to pretend to be interested in it; she nodded at Ron's elaborate stories about Chudley Cannon's latest match.

"Too bad you didn't get a ticket," Ron said to Fred his mouth full of pumpkin pie.

"Tell me about it. It would have been nice to come too. Then again, we did have a rough day with Lee, decorating the new WeasLee Store," Fred grinned.

"Cool name. When is the official opening?" Ron asked.

"We haven't decided yet," Fred replied evasively throwing a swift glance at Hermione. "We'll see how many weeks it takes to get everything ready."

"Speaking of news, Fred," Molly interjected, "when are you going to introduce us your new bride?"

Fred almost choked on his juice. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you obviously have something going on," Molly laughed and winked at Hermione.

Fred's jaw fell open. He gazed in turn at Molly who smiled confidently, and then at Hermione who didn't know where to look. Once in a while his stare wandered to Ron who seemed to be as confused about the situation as Fred.

"Mom, what are you talking about?" Fred finally exclaimed.

"Well, you've been acting so different lately. It has to have something to do with a woman, hasn't it?" Molly insisted.

Fred rolled his eyes and burst into a relieved laughter. The secret was still safe.

"This time it has everything to do with the new store. I guess I've just been so excited about it," Fred ensured but didn't quite convince Molly whose expression stayed sceptical. At that moment, Ron stood up abruptly and dashed to get his Chudley-things.

"Damn it! I'm late!"

"Ronald!" Molly scolded, and Ron blushed.

"Sorry, mom, but I really am late." He crammed the huge top hat on his head and hoisted his bag on his shoulder. "I have to go now, Kev's waiting!"

To no avail, Hermione offered her cheek for a goodbye-kiss; Ron was already out of the door.

 

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming too?" Hermione whispered from the corner of her mouth as they climbed to their respective bedrooms with Fred.

"I wasn't sure if I could make it," Fred breathed back and once more waved his hand at his mother who was standing at the bottom of the stairs. "We really were busy with Lee."

"Ron's coming back tonight," Hermione whispered as she stopped in front of Ron's room. Fred halted beside her.

"At what time?"

"I'm not sure. Not before midnight, I think."

She bit her lip while staring at the curve of Fred's lip.

"It means that I have to come quickly," he grinned and glanced at the stairs. He couldn't see downstairs anymore so he wrapped his arms around Hermione and kissed her hungrily. There was tingling sensation in Hermione's stomach; it was both excitement and guilt.

"Fred, it's too dangerous. What if Ron comes back earlier?"

"I promise to be fast," Fred mumbled as he nuzzled Hermione's neck, hardening instantly at her mesmerizing taste. "I want you."

"Me too... but we have to hurry!" Hermione nipped Fred's lower lip gently, then pushed him away. "I'm going to get ready," she whispered, and grinned as Fred blew an exaggerative kiss to her.

She closed the door behind her and got undressed. Once again, her libido had overthrown her sensibility but she didn't have time to pine over her decisions for long because at that moment Fred Apparated right on top of Ron's bed with a faint pop.

"But, Milady! You are completely naked!" Fred exclaimed mockingly appalled, causing Hermione to burst into laughter; Fred was lying on the bed his face distorted with disapproving look, wearing absolutely nothing.

"Milord, so are you," Hermione replied with a smile, and clambered on top of him.

*

Ron stumbled on a garden gnome and swore, straightening his bright orange top hat.

"Damn you, dad!"

Arthur had gotten excited about Muggle garden gnomes, and now there were multiple, brightly coloured clay statues scattered around the lawn in front of the Burrow. They were a great help for de-gnoming as the dead-stupid creatures tended to stare open mouthed at the figurines, not even bothering to escape the de-gnomers.

Ron made it to the front door without further blunders and creaked it open.

 

Two stories above, Fred who had fallen asleep between the wall and Hermione woke up to the creak of the stairs. For two seconds Fred wondered where he was, then it hit him.

"Hermione, wake up!" he gasped.

"Mmh, what?"

"Ron's coming!" Fred whispered urgently and swing his feet on the floor. He grabbed his wand from the night table and vanished with a muted pop.

Hermione startled. She sprang half up just when the door opened, and Ron entered. He froze, noticing the wide-eyed Hermione in the bright light of his wand.

"Sorry to wake you up," he mumbled and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"No..." Hermione croaked still half-asleep, "you didn't wake me.. it was... umm, a nightmare."

"You poor thing," Ron murmured. He undressed swiftly before diving under the covers, settling himself unknowingly on the same spot where his brother had been lying just a couple of minutes earlier. "You can sleep now, I'm here."

Hermione tugged the blanket all the way to her chin and curled up in a small bundle. Ron stroke her hair but stopped abruptly as Hermione pressed him further away with her bum.

"Honey, would you like to..." Ron started.

"Not now, I have a stomach ache," Hermione muttered and squeezed her eyes shut.

She was boggled that Ron didn't recognize the smell of sex that lingered around her like a thick cover. But when Ron moved his head closer and breathed beer vapours on her face, she didn't wonder anymore.

"Would you like me to massage it?" Ron offered sliding his hand on her waist.

"No, thank you. It'll get better by the morning."

"Are you sure? Maybe I should get you a glass of water?"

"It'll be fine, let's just sleep now," Hermione replied with a sigh, wrapping the covers more tightly around her.

A moment passed, then Ron's lips grazed her cheek, the mattress wobbled.

"Good night."


	3. Problem Solving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione tried to push back the quilt that had been awoken by the longing in Ron's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> **Chapter Rating: PG-13**

  
**Chapter 3: Problem Solving**   


Hermione hadn't been able to make love to Ron for weeks, and neither was she able to keep up with her normal life anymore. She was always on the verge of tears, and while it was allowed in the presence of Fred, in front of Ron she would have had to explain why she cried. So, she avoided Ron's company, making up even more lively explanations on why she couldn't come home for weekends, sometimes even for weeknights.

Fred was like a magnet to her, and even though she had denounced their relationship more than once, she always returned to where she felt she now belonged.

Ron remained blissfully ignorant even when Hermione, leaving hurriedly for work, dropped Fred's golden necklace on the floor. Ron picked it up, failing to notice Hermione's frightened look.

"Did you buy new jewellery?" he asked, inspecting the oddly familiar twist around the pendant. 

"Well, yes. An impulse purchase at Diagon Alley. Isn't it beautiful?" she said very fast.

"Yes, very beautiful." Ron frowned, trying to remember if he had seen the pendant before, but gave it eventually back to Hermione who stuck it quickly in her purse.

"Aren't you going to wear it?" Ron wondered.

"Oh, not now because... because I broke it while changing. I'm getting it fixed," she explained and kissed Ron's cheek swiftly, grabbing her briefcase. "Now I'm late."

"Come back soon," Ron coaxed, the necklace already forgotten. "I miss you already."

Hermione waved nervously, then Disapparated.

She tried to push back the quilt that had been awoken by the longing in Ron's eyes. She was about to meet Fred who had told her he wanted to talk about something serious. She was frightened that he wanted to end their relationship – this time permanently.

 

The young man behind the counter beamed, waving his hand. Hermione turned to stare at the lift doors that were about to open. The odd behaviour of the receptionist had made her nervous; it was almost like he had expected her to come even though she didn't have a reservation.

Hermione tried to reason that it was just her uncertainty talking. She couldn't stop wondering why on Earth Fred had arranged their meeting in such a strange place. Why this time it wasn't enough that she had Apparated at Fred's flat? Why had Fred reserved a room in a Muggle hotel? And, why the receptionist had become so twitchy after Hermione had asked for Fred's room number?

Hermione stepped in the lift, feeling grateful that she had eight floors to calm herself up.

Nevertheless, she failed to see reason for this oddity even though she mulled it over again and again, rubbing her soon-to-be aching temples. Well, apart from the obvious reason that Fred had come to the same conclusion she had been thinking about for ages.

It was the sensible thing to do, really, to end their relationship. It would normalise everything. But still, it terrified Hermione to just think about not being able to see Fred except a few chance family meetings. It made her sweat, and her stomach to twist into a painful knot.

Fred had never suggested aloud that they should stop seeing each other, although the situation stressed him out as much as it did Hermione. For this very reason Hermione was afraid of Fred's decision; if he really wanted to end their secret affair, she would have to oblige. They _should_ be strong and responsible, like adults. Sometimes it was impossible to get what you wanted. Sometimes you just had to settle and make compromises that harmed as few people as possible.

"Now, you be strong. No matter what happens," Hermione whispered at her mirror image, wiping away a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

When the lift doors opened with a melodic sound, Hermione had to step out whether she was calm or not. An elderly couple passed her on the hallway, peering curiously as she tried to dry her disobedient tears. She didn't even notice their looks as she sat down on the bench.

In a way, she was relieved that apparently Fred had summoned the courage to end things once and for all. Still, a part of her had hoped for another decision. Perhaps they could have waited for a while. She could have applied for a translocation and finally bring herself to leave Ron. She was sure she would have found a painless way to do it, so that Ron wouldn't have felt like losing his face.

Afterwards, she and Fred could have lived together in some distant place, far away from the judging stares.

But as she was planning for the future that would never come, she knew she was just deceiving herself. Fred wouldn't want to live far away from his family, nor did she. Isolating themselves of everything familiar and safe would eventually start eating away their love, until nothing would be left.

No, Fred was right. They had no future, and it was best to end things before someone found out about them.

Hermione dried her eyes again and cleared her throat. She grabbed her compact from her purse, trying to cover her reddish nose and her puffy eyes, before knocking on the door.

"Come in." Fred's familiar voice said behind the door, and Hermione stepped in. She stopped abruptly and just stared, bewildered, at the scene in front of her: there were candles spread throughout the room, and they lit the suite in a golden glow. Smoky jazz tunes emanated from the hidden speakers, and in the middle of a soft, oriental carpet was Fred – on his knees.

Hermione was loss of words. It wasn't the first time she didn't know what to say but all the occasions could be counted with one hand.

"Fred..." she gasped, flinching as Fred closed the door with a whisk of his wand.

"You look lovely," Fred said, smiling nervously. He crawled on his knees closer to wide-eyed Hermione, his heart beating rapidly.

Fred couldn't even start to understand how it was possible that he had such strong feelings towards anyone else than George. Of course, his platonic love for his late twin brother couldn't really be compared for his not-so-platonic love for Hermione, but its intensity was something he was used to measure all his relationships to. And, before Hermione, no-one had reached this level.

Fred couldn't believe his luck; he had actually found a person whose company made him feel like winning a million galleons every single day.

Too bad that his brother had found her first.

Fred cursed under his breath. It wasn't the right time to think about Ron, not when he was supposed to be focusing on Hermione.

"What are you..." Hermione muttered, taking a step forward. "I don't understand..."

There was a twinkle in Fred's eyes but Hermione noticed uncertainty around his lips, too. She cried out, dropping on her knees. She didn't want Fred to think that she was displeased by his surprise, on the contrary! She pressed Fred against herself, elated to find out that after all he wasn't going to end their relationship.

"Oh, Fred. I was sure that you didn't want to see me anymore."

Fred retreated a bit so that he could give Hermione an astounded look.

"How can you even think something like that?" he swept the fresh tears off from Hermione's cheeks and pressed a soft kiss on her red nose. "You know fairly well that I can't live without you."

Hermione sobbed happily but was so dazed that the full meaning of Fred's announcement escaped her; until Fred produced a small, red box from his pocket.

"Hermione... Weasley. I know I can only offer my humble self and my barely managing business but, please, bear in mind that my heart is noble and pure," Fred began, grinning nervously.

As for Hermione, her nervousness erupted with giggles.

"You're not supposed to laugh, yet," Fred scolded her, flicking her nose gently with his finger.

"Sorry."

"Apology accepted," Fred declared, kissing swiftly the corner of her mouth. "But, as I was saying, I can only offer my boundless love and my modest heart. And, of course, my unbelievably good looks but that's obvious, naturally."

Hermione sniggered. She peered at Fred, trying to convince her that all of this wasn't just a game – though she wouldn't have minded even that; there were too few things to laugh about nowadays.

The same thing seemed to have occurred to Fred, too, for suddenly he became solemn. He grabbed Hermione's left hand, lifting it to his lips, and slid Ron's wedding ring off of her finger.

"Hermione, I love you and I want to marry you, whatever the costs. I'm tired of hiding."

Hermione's heart leaped; her dream was at hand. But what about Ron?

Fred seemed to read her thoughts.

"We'll find a way to tell Ron. He's bound to understand eventually that there's no choice," Fred assured, kissing Hermione's palm. Then he squeezed his eyes shut. "Please, don't leave me now..." 

Hermione pressed her forehead against Fred's freckled cheek. This was where she belonged.

"I won't. Never."


	4. Something Old, Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry didn't fully gain his consciousness until Ron laid the magazine down and looked directly at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> **Chapter Rating: PG-13**

  
**Chapter 4: Something Old, Something New**   


The bell above the counter chimed, and Lee glanced at the door.

"Welcome!" he exclaimed, smiling and flashing his white teeth. When the new customer didn't notice his welcome at all, Lee's smile faltered.

His brow furrowed as he gaped, bewildered, at the middle-aged, bearded man. The fact that the man was wearing large, shaded glasses and had voluminous facial hair prevented Lee from seeing his features. Although, judging from the customers body language, it wasn't hard to figure out where he was looking at. As Lee followed the gaze, he realised that the man was staring at Ron who was sitting at the end of the counter, reading a magazine.

 

Harry stood paralyzed by the door. What on Earth had he been thinking of when he had pushed open the remarkably colourful door of WeasLee store? Perhaps, he had been encouraged by his disguise or so numbed by his home-sickness — it had been ages since he had seen any of his old friends. Whatever the reason, Harry definitely hadn't been prepared to stumble into Ron.

He gazed longingly, almost hypnotized, as a red lock of hair fell down Ron's pale cheek. Ron's lips stretched into a slight smile, and he blew the hair off of his way, revealing his profile for a fleeing moment, until the flaming strand fell right back at where it had been a second before.

Harry had been dreaming of Ron, some of the dreams being erotic some nothing more than nightmares, but at that moment all of them paled beside the real, vivid Ron. It took merely the sight of him to stifle his breath and banish all his thoughts.

After a long moment, Harry started to notice small changes.

Ron's face was almost the same it had been before Harry had left but it had lost the resilient roundness of a child. There were few more freckles scattered on his uncovered, muscular arms, and his shoulders were substantially broader than before. It wasn't as though Harry hadn't kept himself in shape, too. He was no longer skinny boy that he used to be but the changes in him were not as radical. Ron was no longer the lanky boy Harry remembered.

Ron had become a man.

There were beads of sweat forming on Harry's forehead, and he moistened his dry lips nervously. Lee's voice seemed to come from far away, and Harry didn't fully gain his consciousness until Ron laid the magazine down and looked directly at him.

For two seconds Harry endured what seemed to be the world's most intensive stare. Then his stomach tied in knots, and his heart started to pound relentlessly. He would have given anything just to be able to dart across the floor, to Ron, and take him in his arms. Feel the skin against skin. Press his lips against his.

A strange combination of grunt and sigh escaped Harry's lips, and he bolted out of the door. He ran, panic-stricken, around the corner, pulling his wand out and activating the Portus Charm.

As he felt the ground under his feet, he didn't pause but continued straight to his apartment. He banged the front door close behind him with such a force that the mirror hanging on the hallway shattered into the pieces. Harry didn't even slow down but got rid of his false appearance with a flick of his wand, dropping his hat and cloak on the floor. He marched into the kitchen, grabbed a mug from the table and threw it straight at the wall. He panted in the middle of the kitchen, watching the brown coffee stain flow down the wall to accompany the porcelain shatters on the floor.

Harry tried to stop his hands from shaking.

For so many years, he had been trying to forget Ron, and the previous week he had finally made some progress. He had been able to look at the photo album without feeling depressed, and had decided to visit Hogsmeade as a reward. It was easy enough to get an Inter-Continental Port-Key through his colleagues, and Rosmerta had reserved a room for him under the name of Lewis Portman.

Harry hadn't planned on doing anything dramatic. He had just wanted to see the village and walk among the people he knew. Relax.

One thing was certain; entering the WeasLee shop had been an unfortunate mishap. Harry definitely hadn't been planning on doing that and regretted giving in to his stupid whim. In his defence, he hadn't really believed that Fred would be there, and even in his wildest dreams had he presumed that Ron would be there — yet, there he had been. Ever married, ever infuriatingly ignorant of Harry's feelings towards him.

Ron had never expressed anything other than friendly feelings towards Harry. Not even if Harry had, from time to time, thought he had noticed something strange in Ron's eyes. Something repressed. Harry had waited until the wedding before he had realised that had lost the most important battle of his life. Although, no-one had known about this particular battle — not even Ginny.

Harry sat down by the table and buried his face in his hands. It had been unforgivable, the way he had left Ginny. Just with a letter without any explanations. He had sent it from his flat in Spain, where he had said good-bye to his life in Britain. After sending the letters, he had spent few weeks alone before the Secret Police in Nicaragua, their substitute for Aurors, had confirmed their job offer.

His career had been progressing easily but his private life — not so much. Only the local Head of Ministry Security, Estada Somoza, knew Harry's real identity but for the rest of them, he was just the weird Mr Portman; damn good field worker but socially as capable as an amoeba. A man whose life appeared to circle around his job. Just like Harry had wanted.

However, there was anything but work circling in Harry's mind at that moment. His thoughts were engulfed by a red-haired man from the past.

*

Ron and Lee were discussing the peculiar behaviour of the latest would-be-customer.

"Maybe he had a seizure."

"Yeah, a cramp on his leg, and a stroke on his eye."

"Well, it _was_ sort of funny," Ron mused. "Like he knew me."

"So, you didn't recognise him?"

"No... I don't think so," Ron pondered, "although, there was something..." He shook his head. "Oh, bother. It was some nutcase, anyway." He put his jacket on. "When's Fred coming home from that conference?"

"Tomorrow, I guess. At least, if he doesn't get lucky, that is," Lee grinned. Ron stared at him, nonplussed.

"Get lucky, how?"

Lee was biting his lip.

"Damn. Well, you didn't hear it from me," he huffed, "but I think Fred's serious with that mystery lady of his. I saw him take a jewellery box with him. He's going to propose her!"

"I don't believe it! He hasn't even introduced her to Mum," Ron said, taken aback.

"Yeah, well, I saw the box," Lee argued, "and I'm sure you've noticed how strange he's become?"

"Wicked," Ron muttered. "He must be crazy about her!"

"So it seems," Lee approved, "but you aren't supposed to know anything! Just look surprised!"

"Yeah, yeah," Ron grinned. "I'd like to see Mum's face, though, when Fred tells her that they've eloped."

Lee was still laughing when Ron pushed the door open and stepped out to the windy street.

So, Fred was going to propose. Ron chuckled and glanced at his watch. He really didn't have to be anywhere, so he could afford to spy a little. And, if Fred should see him, he could always play surprised. No-one would give him away, at least not Lee who had actually provided him the address of the certain hotel.

 

The building was extravagant, and Ron laughed at it right until he squeezed into the revolving door which threw him right into the arms of the porter.

"Alas," said the greyish man as he helped Ron back to his feet. "May I help you... in some other way, Sir?"

Ron's ears went red.

"Pardon me. I'm here to see my brother. He has a reservation."

"This way, Sir. The reception is right around the corner," the porter advised, then bowed slightly before returning on his spot by the door.

Ron thanked him and carried on. The sound of his shoes echoed around the polished lobby, and he straightened his collar nervously. This was the first time in ages when he had dressed up as a Muggle, and the weird clothes felt like they were hugging all the wrong places. Ron didn't really understand how Muggles still failed to notice the comfort of robes.

The young man behind the counter smiled with a trained ease when Ron approached him.

"How do you do, Sir. Welcome to the Rainbow Hotel! How may I be of assistance?"

Ron cleared his throat.

"How do you do. I would like to know the room number of my brother, Fred Weasley."

The man pressed some buttons on the thing-y he had in front of him, staring under the counter. Ron tried to take a peek but could not see anything. The receptionist glanced at Ron, smiled, and pressed yet another button.

"Mr and Mrs Weasley do live here but, for security reasons, I'm not in the liberty to divulge the number of their room, Sir," he said eventually.

Ron's face fell, and the receptionist continued hurriedly: "But, of course, I can deliver a message to them, Sir. In the mean-time, perhaps you would like to have some refreshments?"

Ron nodded, bewildered, and let the receptionist escort him to the restaurant at the end of the lobby.

"I will be right back with you, Sir," the receptionist promised, before returning behind the counter.

Ron ordered a drink and sat down by the bar. Mr and Mrs Weasley? Had Fred already married the mystery woman? What was the problem with him? Why all the secrets? Even though Fred was famous for always staying mum until everything was under his control, this was a bit thick.

The bartender placed a glass with something blue and bubbly in front of Ron. He glanced at her, surprised, but she was already serving another customer. He shrugged and took a sip. The drink tasted sweet but so surprisingly fresh that Ron ordered another right away.

 

At the same time, Fred and Hermione arrived at the reception, as requested, and were guided to the restaurant. When Fred saw Ron who was gulping down his second serving, he froze, causing Hermione to collide with his back.

"What is it?" she wondered and peeked around his shoulder just when Ron turned his head and saw them.


	5. Through the Fluttering Veil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione was trying to make Fred realise something she couldn't say out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> **Chapter Rating: PG-13**

  
**Chapter 5: Through the Fluttering Veil**   


It was impossible for Hermione to turn away. Ron had already seen her, so she made her face blank and tried to listen to the instructions that Fred kept hissing under his breath.

"Ron, you old bean! What the pancakes are you doing here?" Fred bellowed, his arms wide, advancing toward the bar counter.

"Well, actually, I came to see you," Ron told, nonplussed, looking first at Fred then Hermione. He rose to his feet, wavering a bit — the drink must have had more alcohol in it than he had presumed — and, ever the gentleman, offered his seat to Hermione. She ghosted her lips on his cheek before sitting down.

"What a coincidence! First we bump into each other with Hermione, and then you come along, too!" Fred guffawed, slapping his hand on Ron's shoulder. "You have no idea how surprised I was when I saw her at the reception."

Ron smirked and wrapped his arm around Hermione.

"I asked for your room number, and they said they have Mr and Mrs Weasley on the list," Ron said, feeling a bit bolstered and, quite frankly, interested in how Fred would respond.

Fred flinched only slightly and glanced swiftly at Hermione before starting to shake his head, a sad look on his face. He checked that the bartender wasn't too near and lowered his voice.

"You know these Muggles, can't even manage the check-in. They thought Hermione and I were a married couple just because we share the same surname! That's what we were doing when they summoned us to the reception, trying to clear the whole mess up with the management."

"Bloody hell!" Ron puffed. "Don't they know that it doesn't make you relatives if you have the same surname?"

Again, Fred glanced at Hermione then shrugged.

"You would think that, wouldn't you. Have you eaten lunch yet?"

Ron's stomach gave a rumble, and he forgot immediately all about the hotels, the names, and the misunderstandings.

"A bit, but it was ages ago. Is the food here any good?"

"Only delicious!" Fred smirked, pointing at the nearest empty booth. "Let's have lunch there; I know I'm famished."

"I think I'll just have coffee," Hermione cleared her throat.

"Codswallop! I'm sure you've earned a generous lunch working all morning," Ron said fondly, brushing his thumb across Hermione's cheek.

"Aren't you right, Ronniekins. Our Hermy _does_ look like she's wasting away as we speak," Fred intervened. "She's working around the clock these days, isn't she?"

"Yeah, and travelling all the time," Ron said resentfully. When he looked at Hermione, though, he noticed the worry in her eyes and hurried to continue. "I'm just kidding, my dear. I know that after you get that big thing closed, things will get better." He squeezed Hermione's hand a bit tighter before turning to face Fred again. "We're going on holiday after the work gets better. Just the two of us."

Fred didn't dare to answer so he just nodded and kept looking for a waiter.

"Speaking of the devil... Little birds told me that you have something serious going on," Ron continued, grinning.

"Who told you?" Fred demanded.

"One plus one equals two. When are you going to introduce us this Wonder Woman of yours?" Ron joked, gnawing a bread stick he had found on the basket.

"When the time is right," Fred quipped. Ron didn't dare to continue.

For a while, they studied the menu but the letters kept dancing in Fred's eyes. He had a hard time concentrating. He tried to figure out a way to tell Ron the news, but just when he opened his mouth, Hermione kicked his feet discreetly to let him know what, exactly, she thought about coming clean at the moment.

The waiter took their orders and filled up their glasses with deep red wine. Ron seemed to be thirsty and even Fred gulped down half of his drink, but Hermione just took a sip. Suddenly, Ron chuckled and looked at Fred more closely.

"Is that a hickey?" he asked, pointing at Fred's neck. "Wow, your new girlfriend must be quite a package!"

Fred covered his neck with his hand, wincing.

"Actually, it's a necklace-burn."

Ron's disbelieving, almost challenging look combined with the wine that was warming up Fred's cheeks made Fred decide to lighten up the atmosphere. He could tell something about his secret girlfriend, couldn't he? What harm would it do as long as he didn't mention her name?

"Okay then mate, you got it right the first time. It was that superwoman who did this on my neck," Fred boasted, failing to notice how Hermione flinched at his words.

"Details, please," Ron demanded.

"Well, apparently the poor girl didn't want me to leave so she grabbed my necklace so hard."

Ron snickered.

"That's actually funny because just this morning..." Ron began and glanced at Hermione. He fell silent, though, when he saw the expression on her face. Hermione was trying to make Fred realise something she couldn't say out loud.

"This morning..." Ron started again, and his brain was working over-time.

Hermione noticed Ron's stammering and clapped her hand on her mouth. Fred gasped loudly and shot a worried glance at Hermione — he had gone too far.

Ron felt a strange buzz inside his head. It was the messy array of subconscious thoughts, all popping up into his consciousness and finally creating an entity that made sense. The peculiar behaviour between the three of them. Fred's unwillingness in revealing the identity of his girlfriend. Hermione's long work trips and her cold behaviour. Her broken necklace, and Fred's new, rough girlfriend. The cheap pendant George had won at the carnival, the same one which nowadays was Fred's most treasured possession. The oddly familiar twist around it...

Ron stared first at Fred, then at Hermione, until he came to the inevitable conclusion.

"You — your..." he stammered at Fred.

"Your work trips..." he turned to look at Hermione. "And, all those weekends..."

Hermione realised, shocked, that the game was over. All the months of secrecy were gone; all the cards were on the table. Everything had failed because of a stupid pendant. Nevertheless, she couldn't blame it all on Fred because she had dropped the same trinket for Ron to find. They were both guilty.

"Ron, I'm so sorry..." she began, but Fred cut her short.

"Listen, why don't we go and talk about this somewhere more private. I have a room upstairs..."

He put his hand on Ron's shoulder, but Ron smacked it away and got up so abruptly that his chair fell over.

"Don't touch me!" Ron roared, managing to toss his glass down to the floor.

There was a blood red stain on the snow white table cloth spreading steadily, and all that Ron could think of was: _Hermione and Fred, Hermione and Fred._

Everyone had known before him. Everyone had been laughing behind his back. The gullible Ron Weasley. He had become the ridicule of the Wizarding World, and he was dead sure that one day there would be headlines on the Daily Prophet: _Mrs Weasley switched for the better brother._

Even in this stupid hotel, they knew Hermione and Fred were a couple.

Ron stared somewhere behind Hermione's elbow and yanked the wedding ring off his finger, throwing it at her.

"There." It hit her forehead, and she yelped.

Ron startled, and for a fleeting moment, he looked worried. He even leaned towards Hermione until he noticed that the ring on her finger was not the one he had put on it.

Ron straightened up and walked out. For good.


	6. The Consultant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry stared at the letter. What did it mean that "all was not well"? What had happened at home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> **Chapter Rating: PG-13**

  
** PART II **

**Chapter 6: The Consultant**

 

_Two months later on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean_   


Harry rose from the wicker chair and grabbed his cloak. He didn't really need one in the tropical weather but felt unable to leave home without it. The man sitting behind the table fidgeted and started to rummage through the drawer.

"Here's your mail," he said and passed a stack of papers to Harry. "There's a letter in between, don't drop it."

"Thank you, Estada," Harry mumbled and pocketed the lot. "See you next week."

Estada waved his hand and opened the secret door, allowing Harry to enter the narrow passageway that led him out two blocks down the street. The passageway was a handy trick Harry and Estada had arranged — it didn't do good for Lewis Portman to be seen at the Ministry.

Harry hurried home and threw his mail on the living-room table. He re-heated the coffee he had left on the bottom of the pot earlier that day and sat down. Visiting Estada was something he did every single week, and after all these years, it still made him feel depressed. It reminded him that in spite of the effort, he wasn't a regular working man. Not here. And, even though Estada had tried relentlessly to make Harry feel at home, he had never accepted an invitation to join the dinner with Estada's family — not even if Estada promised his wife was the best cook in the world. Every single time, Harry had refused politely, insisting that he had to remain anonymous.

He didn't want to be a burden.

Harry gulped down the bitter coffee, grimacing, and was about to get up when he remembered Estada saying something about a letter. He flipped through the stack of parchment and stared gloomily at the yellowish envelope. After leaving the UK, he had meticulously refused to answer any letters, and after a while, they had stopped coming. Who would still want to write to him?

He tore open the envelope and unfolded the single parchment in it. The message was very short.

>   
> Hi, Harry  
> All is not well, and we need you.  
> Ron has left.
> 
> Hermione & Fred  
> 

Harry stared at the letter. What did it mean that "all was not well"? What had happened at home?

He stormed up and walked to the window. It wasn't his world anymore, so why was Hermione asking him to come back? Just then, Harry realised that he had thought of the UK as home, and his anger doubled. For years, he had tried to sever his old connections, but the truth remained: he missed home. He was tired of the heat, and he didn't want to be Lewis Portman anymore.

Harry frowned and shuffled to the kitchen. Before entering, though, he doubled back and returned to the window.

If — _if_ he was to go back to the UK, he would need to explain his absence to the Weasleys. In addition, he would need to explain at work why he was leaving. Then, there was the matter of getting _another_ Inter-Continental Portkey, which wouldn't be easy since his last trip to Europe had been only a few weeks ago.

He would also need to find a flat in London.

Why the hell was he making all these excuses? He only needed to decide not to go, and that was that! No-one would question him or make him feel guilty even if he shredded the letter in pieces and forgot never even reading it. No-one would ever know.

But...

Harry opened the letter again and stared at it. _Ron has left._ He wasn't sure what it meant but it kept nagging at him. Clearly, Ron wasn't with Hermione. At least not at the moment, but it could also mean that...

At the same time, Harry was both trying to quash the ray of hope that was growing inside him and also marching determinedly to his closet. He swore aloud as he started to pack his trunk. There was no way he wouldn't regret this decision. It would do good to forget about Ron and just stay in Nicaragua. He really shouldn't let his hopes up because of a single message; things would surely be the same as always.

Harry snorted and folded his winter-cloak on top of the pile of clothes — in Great Britain, it was cold even in summer.

 

Harry had barely finished telling his story when Estada opened his drawer, grabbed a Portkey, and handed it to Harry. It was a two-pound coin which looked exactly like a regular coin except that it was made from a heavy, iron-gray metal. If Harry would accidentally try and use it, he would get it back sooner than he could say 'forgery'.

"Listen, why don't you stay a little longer this time? Get your things in order. There's no rush to come back," Estada urged, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Frankly, you've been withering away for weeks now. It's starting to look like _Lago de Managua_ is not the right place for you."

Harry gazed at Estada who had been closest to a friend for him for the last few years.

"Perhaps you are right," he answered, smiling uncertainly, and raised his hood. "Let's hope this visit doesn't end as abruptly as the last one."

"I'll pray for you," Estada promised. He was a devoted Catholic.

Harry grabbed the Portkey with his left hand, and un-pocketed his wand with the right one. He nodded to Estada.

"Thanks, for everything."

And then, he was gone.

 

Hogsmeade welcomed Harry with a burst of wind and chilly rain.

As Harry took a step towards the main street, his stomach lurched. The restless night, the long journey and complete change of climate had been too much. Harry ran behind the dustbin and threw up. He was thankful he wasn't in disguise this time since it wasn't really practical to be sick through a beard. No, on the contrary — as he stepped out of the alley, he was very much his old self — although a bit nauseated.

The familiar bell chimed on top of the door leading to the WeasLee store as Harry stepped in, grateful for the warmth. He was partially expecting to see Ron sitting at the end of the counter again, but this time, the seat was occupied by someone else.

Fred looked at the door, and for a while, he stared at Harry like he had seen a ghost. Then, he rushed to shake Harry's hand.

"Harry, I'm glad you came!"

He steered Harry immediately to the back room. Harry appreciated this — he had noticed two teenage girls who had started to whisper excitedly, throwing interested glances at him. Fred closed the door behind them.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked, slumping on the chair.

Harry followed the example and sat down. He noticed how blooming Fred appeared to be, and for some reason, it irritated him. It was like Fred didn't have a right to be happy when Ron was missing. Harry was actually surprised by his strong reaction, and tried to calm himself down. After all, he didn't really know anything.

"On holiday. Where's Ron?"

Fred leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. Harry's gaze snapped immediately at the gold band on Fred's ring finger, and he was about to ask for more details when Fred talked again.

"In London. I've been trying to talk sense to him but he refuses to meet any one of us," he explained, staring at his hands.

"What happened?" Harry asked, trying to keep his hope down.

Fred glanced at Harry but dropped his stare back to his hands.

"I'm sure you've already noticed this," he blurted out, showing his left hand. Harry nodded.

"I did. Who's the lucky girl?"

Fred considered for a minute, then glanced at Harry again. Harry furrowed his brow — who on Earth could make Fred that reserved and quiet? Then, Fred made up his mind.

"Hermione."

 

Harry left the store, and his mind was buzzing. Night had descended, and he had to hurry up to get a room at Rosmerta's. In spite of Fred's eager offer, Harry didn't want to stay with him.

After the confession, Fred had told Harry everything as if he had been tired of the secrecy and ready to go public beside the woman he was in love with. Harry had listened, almost dazed, to the story of Fred and Hermione cheating on Ron behind his back. At one point, Harry had almost grabbed his wand but had eventually calmed down. At least Fred and Hermione had seized the opportunity to be happy while he, Harry, had just faded to the background, never revealing his feelings to Ron. And what had he achieved by it? Empty hands. And an empty bed.

After a while, Hermione, too, had appeared and taken Harry into a crushing embrace, delighted to see him again. Harry's behaviour had been more restrained. Still, seeing her made him feel warm inside — after all, she was one of his oldest friends.

In the end, Harry had gotten Ron's new address along with a warning. Apparently, Ron wasn't too keen on having surprise guests. This didn't bother Harry; he hadn't done anything to Ron, so why would he be mad at him?

As Harry fell down on the soft bed at the Three Broomsticks, he was feeling extremely tired. Still, sleep evaded him for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hox!**  
>  _Lago de Managua_ is a real place, but I'm not sure if the Ministry of Nicaragua is located there, though =P


	7. On the Common Ground?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's words cut through the rose-coloured haze in Ginny's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> **Chapter Rating: PG-13**

  
**Chapter 7: On the Common Ground?**   


Ginny felt frustrated. She fiddled with the pen in her fingers. In spite of the blank paper in front of her, she wasn't even sure whether she wanted to contact Harry or not. For the last few years, Ginny had managed to sustain her self-esteem by ignoring her ex-boyfriend. Her family had learned quickly not to ask; so had her friends.

Life was smooth, and the sacrifices Ginny had made for her career had eventually borne fruit. After a while, she had started to notice the admiring looks she got and was able to react to them in a way that had led to Gavin.

Gavin was a Muggle doctor who made Ginny's life easy. Even though it pained her that she wasn't able to tell Gavin she loved him, she enjoyed spending time with him. It was familiar, cosy. Could she really ask for more? She and Gavin had drifted into a serene life, and everything proceeded at a steady pace. This was more than okay for her. Life was, if not dancing on the roses, at least wading in calm, shallow water.

Until she had seen Harry.

Harry had been walking in the middle of the main street at Hogsmeade when Ginny had stepped out from the store. Fortunately, Harry had been deep in his thoughts and hadn't seen how Ginny had Disapparated, without thinking, just to find herself completely nonplussed somewhere near Pemberton a second later. There had been only a few yards to the nearest house, and Ginny had shivered when she'd realised how narrowly she had escaped being splinched. Or worse.

She rose up and walked to the window to light a cigarette. Grey smoke coiled up into the roof followed by Ginny's gaze.

Why had Harry come back? Had he changed his mind? Did he want to get back together? Ginny's thoughts circled around and around, jamming her head completely, until she heard the mattress creak and the lamp being turned off.

"Are you coming to bed, dear?"

Ginny startled and glanced the door guiltily. She put out the half-smoked cigarette and grabbed her wand. After a whisk of her wand, the air in the room was refreshed, and there was an Extra Mighty Pastille melting on her tongue — she had promised Gavin to stop smoking.

"In a minute. I'll finish the letter first."

She sat down by the table and scribbled down a few words. She folded the parchment and fastened it to Pig's leg. The small owl hooted alert, stretching her wings.

"Don't deliver this until the morning," Ginny whispered, giving Pig an Owl Treat.

The minuscule owl cooed contentedly and nipped Ginny's finger before flying off towards the night sky.

 

Pig brought Harry's answer at the crack of dawn, and Ginny hurried to make up a reason to stay home. After she had pushed Gavin out almost against his will, she peered at her reflection, worrying about the dark shadows under her eyes. It gave her comfort, though, that Pig had returned so early — she wasn't the only one who hadn't had any sleep.

Ginny brushed her hair harder than necessary. How could Harry still have this strong effect on her? Hadn't she suffered enough? Did she really have to look for trouble by inviting Harry here, to her own home?

Right at that moment, the doorbell rang. Ginny startled. She pressed her hand on her chest and willed herself to calm down. There was no need to make a hysterical scene. She just wanted to make it clear to Harry that she had gotten over him. Or something like that.

After a couple of deep breaths, there wasn't a single thing giving away the nervousness Ginny felt deep inside — if one didn't count her shaking hands. She opened the door, smiling broadly.

"Harry, how lovely to see you!"

She forced herself to pull Harry into a hug. After a moment of confusion, Harry, too, circled his arms around Ginny. Harry's embrace felt so familiar it almost made Ginny sob.

"Ginny," Harry said, and his voice was thick with emotion, too.

Ginny pulled back and looked at Harry from head to toe. He seemed to be malnourished but not as much as before. The spark in his eyes appeared to be the only new feature, but even that didn't quite sit on his frustrated expression.

Harry sat down on the sofa. His legs had started to feel a bit feeble, and he was grateful to be off his feet. He figured his nervousness had finally overwhelmed him. Ginny, on the other hand, appeared to be extremely serene. It warmed Harry's heart until he happened to notice that the king-size bed, which he could see through the half-open door, had two pillows on it.

Ginny sat down on the other end of the sofa and flashed Harry a nervous smile. She cursed under her breath for sending Harry the letter in the first place.

The silence stretched until it was starting to feel uncomfortable. The past breathed with them, and Ginny could hardly remember how it had been when they were able to sit side by side, not talking of anything. Or talking about everything. She missed _that_ Harry.

"How have you been?" Ginny asked mainly to try out her voice.

Harry jumped, startled. His thoughts had been circling around the same memories as Ginny's. He cleared his throat.

"Well, fine, I guess. How about you?" Harry asked, trying to sound friendly even though he had realised that Ginny living together with someone made him annoyed. He knew very well that he had no right to be jealous of her but was still aware of hoping that the relationship was only temporary. His reaction reminded him greatly of Ron's reactions during Hogwarts.

"Quite alright," Ginny lied. "I just got promoted as a Design Manager of the Hogsmeade branch."

"Congratulations!" Harry smiled.

Neither one of them knew how to continue. Ginny stared at her fingers and listened to the ticking of the clock. The silence covered the room again until even the sound of breathing felt too loud. Ginny glanced at the kitchen.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, maybe a little too loud.

"I would love some," Harry answered, speaking almost on top of Ginny. He rose up, relieved, and followed Ginny to the kitchen. Her bum was as round as he remembered, though it didn't really make him feel anything. At one point, he had loved her, but she just wasn't Ron.

Ginny failed to notice that Harry was checking her out. She busied herself with finding the tea pot from the back of the kitchen. She hardly ever drank tea anymore; coffee tasted so much better.

"Still no sugar or cream?" Ginny hollered over her shoulder, trying to dust the flowery, round pot the best she could.

"Yeah," Harry answered and winced when he saw the tea pot. "Or, if it's not too much trouble, could I have some coffee?"

Ginny's eyebrow arched, and she turned around with a crooked smile on her lips.

"You've been abroad too long if you've lost your taste for tea," she joked but regretted her words immediately as Harry's expression became clouded.

"I have," Harry answered rigidly. He straightened his legs under the table. What had he been thinking of getting from this visit? Maybe some inside information or even a hint about how Ron would react when he saw him. Still, Ginny appeared to be reluctant to talk about Ron, even if Harry had been under the impression that his situation had been the reason she had invited Harry over.

Before Harry had a chance to address the matter, Ginny laid two steaming mugs on the table and sat down opposite Harry.

"Same bad habits," Ginny grinned.

They drank their coffee in silence. Harry sneaked a glance at Ginny. He wondered how he could change the subject to Ron. On the other hand, Harry felt he owed Ginny an explanation about their mutual past, but he had none to offer. Besides, it was clear Ginny had gotten over him — she lived with her new boyfriend, for crying out loud.

Harry frowned, deep in his thoughts. He should just ask point-blank. Surely, Ginny was worried about Ron's disappearing, too.

"Have you —" Harry began, but at the same time, Ginny said something. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Harry asked hastily.

Ginny smirked without meaning to. She nearly asked Harry to finish his sentence first but then changed her mind. This dancing around was starting to get boring.

"Have you come to the UK permanently?"

Harry thought about it for a second. Had he?

"I'm not sure. I'm on sort of a holiday. For now, at least," he said finally and, at the same time, realised how much he didn't want to return to Nicaragua.

"What do you do for a living?" Ginny asked even if she already guessed the answer.

"The same as always," Harry chuckled. "Catching the bad guys."

Ginny nodded. What else could Harry be doing? After all, he had been the youngest Auror ever, had gotten into the Academy without taking the examination, and graduated in two years.

"So, you're on holiday, then?" Ginny asked, tensing up — they were finally getting somewhere.

Harry almost nodded before realising his chance had arrived.

"Well, not exactly. Hermione and Fred invited me here."

Harry's words cut through the rose-coloured haze in Ginny's mind, and she sipped her coffee to cover her expression. Of course, Harry had returned for Ron's sake. Ginny felt completely stupid for believing, even for a minute, that Harry would have come back for her. Sudden bitterness over Ron and Harry's friendship almost brought the tears to her eyes.

Why hadn't Harry come back when she was having a hard time? Why hadn't anyone taken care of her?

Ginny ground her teeth together and took an enormous gulp of coffee to cover her grimace.

The silence was getting Harry agitated. "So, have you seen Ron?"

Ginny shook her head absentmindedly.

"I haven't seen anyone for a couple of months. It's been busy at the office," she lied. In reality, Ginny had been living with Gavin for the last five weeks and had been reluctant to introduce him to her family. Maybe now her reluctance would yield.

"Um, you _have_ heard what happened, have you?" Harry inquired, perplexed. He hadn't anticipated this; before he had left the country, the four of them had been inseparable.

"Of course. Although, just Mum's version, but now that she can stand to look Hermione in the eyes again, the letters are less scorched by her curse words," Ginny pointed out.

Harry weighed his options. If Ginny knew basically nothing about Ron, why had Harry been invited here? Right there and then, it occurred to Harry that Ginny might want to get back together. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe.

Ginny noticed Harry's anxiousness but misunderstood the cause of it.

"Mum's starting to be alright," she assured.

Harry kept staring at his hands, trying to digest the new information.

"Are you going to see Ron?" Ginny asked, already knowing the answer; some things were constant.

Harry nodded vigorously, and Ginny felt her tears threatening to make a reappearance. She squared her shoulders and bit her lip to keep her expression neutral.

"Tell him I said hi," Ginny said with a tone that marked the end of the visit.

Harry was surprised for the sudden change of atmosphere and put his mug on the table with perhaps too much strength. The resounding clank startled Ginny. 

"It was nice to see you," Harry said. He tried to smile as he rose up, but suddenly became afraid his expression would be viewed as more of a grimace and sobered up quickly. Ginny, too, got up and smoothed her dress.

"Indeed," she answered rather sarcastically and walked to the door.

Harry followed her sheepishly. Ginny's aggressive steps told without words how angry she was. Harry tried to figure out what had gone wrong. He wanted to say he was sorry for hurting her but didn't know how. Then, Ginny opened the door, and Harry hurried outside before he would be ordered to leave.

"Thanks for the coffee," he stretched his hand out. Ginny hesitated for so long that it surprised Harry when she finally grabbed his hand.

"No problem."

Ginny's handshake was professional and bland. Harry tried to catch Ginny's eye, but she kept staring at the mounds of brown leaves in the garden, evading Harry's eyes so skilfully that he gave up.

Harry turned to leave. When he reached the end of the driveway, he glanced over his shoulder, but Ginny had already closed the door.


	8. The First Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry held his teacup firmly to keep himself from grabbing Ron's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> **Chapter Rating: PG-13**

  
**Chapter 8: The First Mistake**   


Ron opened his eyes. It took a while, before he remembered what had awakened him, but as the doorbell rang again, the cause became painfully clear.

"Coming, coming," Ron mumbled, trying to get on his feet. There was a fleeting thought in his muddled brain to check the room, but turning his head felt too overwhelming. He sent a quick wish to whatever higher power that there wouldn't be any wizard stuff lying around and concentrated on stopping the ear breaking ringing of the doorbell.

"Took you long enough," Cal remarked, stepping in from the much too bright sunshine. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness in the hall, he spotted Ron who was leaning against the wall. Cal sniffed the musty air.

"You look terrible," he quipped and walked in.

Ron locked the door before following Cal to the single room. He slumped back to the bed where he had slept for a few hours, still wearing the clothes he had worn last night.

"What the hell are you doing here so early?" Ron slurred from under his pillow.

Cal sniggered.

"It's almost half past one," he explained. "We have to be at work in a couple of hours. I knew you were still sleeping. I guess you didn't come straight home from _Steer_?"

Ron grunted. Apparently not, even though he had no recollection of the evening. Or last night.

"Found any birds?" Cal asked casually. His luck had been worse than usual. Both of his candidates had turned out to be the virtuous kind who felt content just dancing with him. Cal had got ridden of the numbers he'd been given as soon as he was out of their sight. Fortunately, there was plenty of loose game in London, and perhaps, he would get lucky tonight.

"Bloody hell, is it that late already?" Ron finally realised what Cal had said about the time. He clambered up again and headed for the bathroom, stripping his clothes on the way.

The cool shower felt like heaven as it both rinsed the sweat from Ron's body and helped him swallow the usual morning aspirins. After half an hour, Ron felt like a living being again. He turned off the shower and wrapped a towel that he found on the floor around his waist before returning to Cal.

"Well, how about that!" Cal grinned and tossed off the local paper he had been riffling through. "You should manage on your own now. I have to take care of a couple of things. See you at work!"

Ron nodded and put the kettle on for appearances sake. Cal slapped his buttocks as he walked by. Ron cursed and flipped a finger to Cal, but he didn't mind; he just threw the door closed behind him, laughing as he went. After the door slammed shut, Ron grinned — what would he do without Cal?

 

Ron had just finished eating his breakfast eggs and was pouring another cup of tea when the doorbell rang again.

"Yeah, yeah, what did you forget this time..." Ron muttered to himself, unlocking the door. He stopped dead, though, as he saw that the figure standing in front of him, in the mercilessly bright light, was much shorter than Cal. He squinted but couldn't make out the face of the stranger. As the man talked, however, Ron's jaw dropped — he knew _that_ voice very well.

"Hullo, can I come in?" Harry asked nervously. Ron was still wearing nothing but the towel.

 

Harry sat down by the kitchen table, on the only vacant seat in the flat, while Ron shut himself in the bathroom to get dressed. Harry was feeling nervous, and it certainly didn't help that Ron had obviously been waiting for someone else; at least, no one appeared to be living with Ron.

There was a cool breeze from the window behind Harry, and he checked his armpits to see if he had any sweat marks. Three times Harry had tried to knock on Ron's door but had always chickened out, retreating around the corner to gather more courage. He had been terrified of his reaction when seeing Ron — especially after what had happened the last time. When Harry had finally felt brave enough to push the doorbell, seeing Ron practically naked had almost made him flee again.

He hoped Ron hadn't noticed his blush.

The bathroom door opened, startling Harry. He smoothed his hair quickly and arranged his features into a neutral smile. Ron stepped out wearing a pair of black jeans and a faded, dark red t-shirt which carried some kind of a logo Harry couldn't quite make out.

"Well, this is a surprise," Ron managed. He had stayed in the bathroom even after getting fully dressed; Harry's sudden appearance on his doorstep had caught him completely off-guard. Ron was so eager to learn where Harry had been all these years, not to mention why he had returned, that he didn't even wonder how Harry had found out about his address.

"Yes... I decided to drop in as I managed to find a flat not far from here," Harry answered, evasively.

Ron kept rubbing his still moist hair with the towel while stealing glances at Harry. He was wearing the same Muggle clothes Ron had seen on him before. He looked skinny as ever, but like Ginny, Ron, too, noticed the spark in his eyes. That kind of a spark was characteristic for a flying Harry. Happy Harry.

"So, you came back?" Ron asked, looking for confirmation.

"Back home," Harry grinned, remembering his last day at _Lago de Managua_.

"It's bloody time!" Ron huffed

"It is," Harry agreed, and his smile faded away. This gave Ron a strange satisfaction.

"Did you find a job already?" Ron asked. He decided to stay civil and tapped his teapot with his wand. Steam started to pour out while Ron fetched another cup.

"Yeah, they promised to take me back at the Ministry," Harry told. "What do you do nowadays?"

Ron's ears blushed.

"I'm living with the Muggles. I've got a job in a bar... as a cloakroom attendant. The pay is enough, and the work is light," Ron babbled on, pushing the other cup towards Harry. He sat down, too, and took a sip from his tea. It was already cold.

"I see," Harry stated, tasting his fresh tea.

Ron knocked his cup on the table and stared at Harry. In spite of his good intentions, he couldn't keep his mouth shut anymore.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Harry asked, puzzled

"Why the hell did you disappear? Why didn't you ever write back?" Ron asked with a bitter voice. "I thought we were friends, but I guess it was just all talk to you."

Harry blinked.

"Of course it wasn't!" he shouted, pushing his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry I left. And for not writing back but... damn it! It was just so difficult."

Ron kept staring at Harry but didn't say anything.

"I just wanted to get out of these circles, and that's why I didn't answer to any letters," Harry explained. "It was easier to stay away if I didn't keep in touch with anyone."

He held his teacup firmly to keep himself from grabbing Ron's hand. He wanted to explain everything: how he couldn't have stayed when all Ron saw was Hermione. He wanted to ask whether he had any hope with Ron, even as friends, but stayed silent instead.

"Why did you want to leave, then?" Ron asked, sounding hurtful, but Harry was prepared for this question.

"Things changed when you two got married. In any case, everything reminded me of the war. It felt like I couldn't visit you without thinking of Percy and George..." Harry's voice faded, and he stared at the cup in his hands. He wasn't really lying even though he had continued his explanation after the one crucial reason.

Ron pulled himself up, eyeing Harry dumbfounded.

"What? Did you think we accused you? That's idiotic! Their... I mean, it wasn't your fault," Ron stammered. What the bloody hell was Harry thinking of? Had he saved pretty much the whole world and then started to blame himself for the deaths of the fallen?

"I know you didn't, but I did," Harry muttered, avoiding Ron's eye. "But then I realised it wasn't really my fault. I mean —"

"You're damn right it wasn't, you moron!" Ron huffed, looking at Harry with a disbelieving look.

"Yeah, well, in any case, I came back now."

"I'm glad you did," Ron said, relaxing. "Though, you could've said it straight, that you didn't want to be with us," he added.

Harry's blood boiled. It surely wasn't him who hadn't wanted to be in touch with anyone else than his new bride! But he swallowed his anger — now was not the time.

"Like I said, I'm sorry."

Ron took a gulp of his cold tea, and Harry stared out the window, taking a few deep breaths.

"How about you? Why do you live with the Muggles?" Harry asked nonchalantly.

Ron's expression tightened, but Harry tried to appear like he didn't know about anything. He figured Ron would be pissed off if he found out that Harry had returned because of Hermione and Fred's invitation.

"We broke up with Hermione," Ron blurted out, knocking his cup accidentally against the table. It slipped through his fingers and dropped on the floor, spilling its content on Ron's bare feet. "Damn it!"

Harry flicked his wand, and the cup flew to the table, repaired, and this time it was full of steaming hot tea. Ron blinked; he hadn't seen anyone else but himself use magic for several weeks. His confusion turned quickly into embarrassment as he noticed that Harry had seen his bewilderment. His ears turned bright pink, and he muttered a vague thank you. Did Harry think he couldn't do magic anymore?

This time, Harry failed to notice the warning signals; he was too eager to proceed on the matter.

"You broke up? What for?" Harry's voice was laced with just the right amount of wonderment, grief and compassion.

"We just didn't want to be together," Ron said, evasively. "I didn't want to stay in the Wizarding World because I'd have bumped into her everywhere. Thought I'd try the Muggle World, even though Dad did offer me a placement in the Ministry," Ron babbled on and threw a quick glance at Harry. There was pity on his face — or was it compassion? — and something strange in his eyes. It looked almost like Harry was glad about their divorce.

Suddenly Ron remembered Harry's earlier words: _"Things changed when you two got married."_ Had Harry felt himself an outsider? Was he secretly happy when things hadn't worked out between Ron and Hermione? Ron's temper rose.

"Yeah, she's with Fred now," he barked. Maybe it satisfied Harry when neither of them had anyone.

Harry drew a deep breath; partially for drama's sake but mostly because of Ron's revelation had come surprisingly easy. Harry had been prepared to fish for the truth much harder.

"You're serious?" he stared at Ron.

"Yes, I'm serious. They'd been together for who knows how long when I found out. There's a fairy tale marriage for you," Ron hissed.

Harry hesitated.

"They never told you?" he finally asked. He hadn't had a straight answer from either Hermione or Fred. Ron sneered.

"You bet your ass they didn't. Lied to my face point-blank and tried to hush me down when I figured the whole thing out."

"Would it really have been better if they'd told you beforehand?"

Ron sprang to his feet like a jack-in-a-box. Harry startled and reflexively pulled his wand half way out. Luckily, Ron failed to notice this; he was too busy pacing back and forth in the living-room.

"At least it would've been honest!" he fumed and continued his long strides. "But it doesn't really matter, because it all comes to the fact that she fucked with Fred. What would you've said if your wife had slept with your brother?"

Harry didn't dare answer; the question had hit too close.

"I'm sure they're already planning on the wedding. _She_ had a new ring on her finger and everything!"

Harry got up and grabbed Ron's arm. He had to make him understand.

"It was wrong," Harry said quietly. "And nothing justifies cheating, but... you can't always choose who you fall in love with."

Ron jerked his arm free and glared at Harry.

"Listen, you know nothing about it, so it's best if you just shut up," he snapped. _It's not like you have ever been dumped._

"And you know everything? You didn't even stay long enough for Hermione to explain!"

Harry realised almost immediately what he had said, but so did Ron.

"How — have you been talking with _them_?!" Ron thundered. "Of course, they made you come here. I should've known."

He took his wand and pointed it at Harry, forcing him to back away to the hall.

"Get out."

"Ron, listen —"

"Out!" Ron pushed Harry against the door with his free hand and reached for the handle.

Harry could have disarmed Ron in a second but decided wisely that it wouldn't help the situation. He only hoped that Ron would listen to him for a moment.

"You don't understand!" he protested as Ron pushed him into the bright sunlight, but it was too late; the door slammed shut in front of his nose.

"Ron! Open the door! We have to talk!"

Harry's desperate yell echoed from the varnished wood. He pushed the mail box open, hoping to convince Ron to let him back in, but instead, heard a familiar pop — Ron had Disapparated.


	9. ...and Little Pots Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry waited for a moment before crossing the street and slipping after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> **Chapter Rating: EXPLICIT!  
>  Warnings: Heavy drinking & adult themes i.e. SEX!**

  
**Chapter 9: ...and Little Pots Too**   


After the row, Ron was so angry he hardly spoke even to Cal. The customers who were used to Ron's friendly quips were dumbfounded by his sullen face and the furious, not to mention noisy, abuse of the hangers. Regulars knew without asking that something bad had happened, but all the newcomers couldn't figure it out.

"Did someone stuff a melon in your arse?" an elderly man with a moustache joked, triggering a snigger from his youngish companion. Ron scowled.

"Yeah, the same who left a dead rat under your nose," he spat out. "If the service doesn't suit you, you can fuck off."

Unfortunately, Mr Moustachio knew the owner of the _Bollocks_ and tattled to him about Ron. Sometime later, Brian arrived and pulled Ron to the back room.

"You don't bitch at customers!" he raged, glaring at Ron.

"He started it!" Ron fumed, furrowing his brow; the situation didn't feel very fair.

"I don't care," Brian huffed. "If you have problems at home, you keep them there, understood? Or else, don't bother coming at all," Brian continued with an ominous tone.

Ron swallowed the nasty retort that was threatening to escape from his lips and nodded, his face blank.

_Fucking Harry! Did he have to come back and ruin everything?_

 

Cal kept throwing enquiring glances at Ron all evening but didn't say a thing before the end of their shift. Ron grabbed his coat, but unlike every other evening, didn't move over to the bar; instead, he stepped out to the cool mist. Cal hurried after Ron and stopped him by gripping his arm. Ron startled and pulled his arm free. He wheeled around, hands in tight fists, but seeing only Cal, he relaxed.

"Aren't we moody today," Cal noted putting his leather jacket on.

"Well, I've got a reason to be," Ron mumbled continuing down the street, Cal on his heels.

"I guess today isn't one of those getting-drunk-in-our-bar-before-going-downtown nights?" Cal asked, pulling his collar up against the chilly air.

"Yeah, didn't feel like staying."

"Brian gave you feedback?"

Ron nodded grimly.

"What a ray of sunshine you are," Cal chuckled, patting Ron on the shoulder. His good mood wasn't deflated by some minor setback like this one. Ron was grateful for it.

"Come. I know a good place not far from here. You'll love it!" Cal grinned. Ron followed him silently.

*

A few blocks further, Harry stepped in a cosy pub.

"Hi, Billy-Boy," he greeted the red-headed man behind the counter wearing a kilt. Billy froze and raised his forefinger in the air but didn't turn around.

"It's a ghost that be speakin'," he rumbled with his thick Scottish accent. "Or, the prodigal son 'as finally returned ta where 'e belongs."

A couple of customers, leaning on the counter, eyed both Billy and Harry, amused.

"Wrong and wrong," Harry grinned. "It's just the man of your dreams begging for an audience."

Billy turned around, the hem of his kilt flourishing, and exclaimed pretentiously surprised.

"Harry, my secret vice!"

Billy reached over the counter and pulled Harry into a tight hug. After that, he grabbed Harry by his ears and kissed him straight on the lips.

Billy's kiss tasted sweet, and Harry smiled broadly to the warm welcome. No one could ever be depressed in Billy's company for a long time. For that reason, Harry had come here. He had found _Wallace_ during his studying years in the Academy, and additionally had found himself. Billy had been his first.

"I _knew_ yeh wouldn't be able ta stay away!" Billy exclaimed triumphantly, patting Harry on the cheek. "Though, ye took yer time fightin' against yer destiny."

"Three years," Harry said, still smiling.

"Aye, three years," Billy repeated, taking a good look at Harry. He saw a bit thinner and wearier Harry but was delighted to note the twinkling, lively green eyes. They had always made his knees weak.

"Hold on, I'll call Maggie, and then we'll talk," Billy huffed, pushing the back door open. "Margaret Wyndan! Come ta earn yer bread and butter! I'm takin' a break."

He returned to Harry without waiting for an answer.

"The usual?" Billy asked and was pouring the beer before Harry even had a chance to nod.

After Maggie appeared from the kitchen, Billy steered Harry straight to the corner table at the back of the pub, pushing the pint in front of him.

"Talk," he blurted out and leant back. And Harry talked.

 

"—and then he just threw me out," Harry ended his tale and emptied his pint.

Billy didn't utter a word before fetching them both another beer.

"Yeh poor bloke," he muttered, reaching out to pull Harry's hand onto his cheek.

Harry's fingers ghosted over the rough stubble, ending up on Billy's lips. His breath warmed Harry's fingertips as he pondered the matter, his eyes never leaving Harry.

"It would've been better if ye'd stayed here with Billy-Boy," Billy grinned but grew serious after seeing that Harry didn't laugh. "Yeh realise that ye've lost that boy's faith now?"

Harry nodded solemnly.

"What the devil bewitched yeh ta lie? Didn't Billy-Boy teach yeh better?" Billy kept staring at Harry from underneath his thick eyebrows. Harry lowered his eyes, feeling embarrassed.

"It felt like a good plan at the time," he mumbled.

"And now some damage control is in order," Billy muttered, freeing Harry's hand. Harry nodded again and grabbed his full pint.

"Drop 'im on his knees," Billy said after a couple of minutes. "Forget about settlin' with the relatives. It's the boy yeh want, not 'is family!"

Harry shook his head. "Ron's too stubborn. It won't work anymore."

"Stubborn, eh? Well that's two of yeh!" Billy-Boy burst into loud laughter.

For some reason, Harry felt instantly better.

 

They each took yet another beer, but after those, Harry pushed his chair back.

"I have to go now. Thanks for the help, Billy — again."

Harry got up and tried to hug Billy, but Billy grabbed Harry by his neck and pulled his face almost against his own.

"Yeh sure yeh don' wanna spend the night?" he asked with a low voice.

Harry smiled. "Not this time, Billy."

Billy let Harry go and pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Empty and cold bed, that awaits poor Billy-Boy again!" he cried out, smacking a passer-by on his buttocks.

Harry grinned. "That'd be the first time."

As Harry stepped out the cellar pub, _Wallace_ , he almost stumbled backwards onto his arse — on the other side of the street was Ron, just standing there.

Harry retreated to the recess wondering if the tall man standing by Ron was the one he had been waiting for that afternoon. The man waved his arms trying to persuade Ron to step in the black door that Harry knew lead to a rather popular gay bar. The quarrel ended when Ron shrugged, looking defeated, and pushed the door open fiercely. The tall guy followed on his heels.

Harry waited for a moment before crossing the street and slipping after them.

*

Ron looked around, shaking his head and looking annoyed. Cal chuckled.

"Come now, this should feel homey!"

"Haven't you had enough of the gay bars?" Ron glared at his friend.

"Let's just have a couple of beers here and then go straight to _Steer_ , okay?" Cal proposed, trying to mollify Ron.

Ron didn't answer, but instead gulped down half of his beer. Cal didn't push Ron but let him get lost in his thoughts. He knew that when Ron had enough beer in him, he would start talking. Cal was right.

"It's unbelievable how two-faced people can be," Ron snorted.

"You mean the guest you had today?"

Ron nodded, looking irritated. "He came to bring me back."

"Back where?" Cal started to get interested. Ron had never revealed anything personal before; he only mentioned being married for a few years before moving to London.

"Oh, back home," Ron answered evasively, even though he really didn't mind anymore whether Cal found out or not. "Back to the countryside."

"Why?"

"Because my ex sent him."

"Your ex-wife wants you back?"

"No!" Ron yelped. He hesitated before continuing. "My ex is a hopeless optimist. I guess she wants everyone to get along with each other in spite of how deep in their backs her knife has been drilled. She must be crazy to think that I would go back to look at her fooling around with my brother," Ron sneered, rolling his eyes.

Cal tutted and shook his head. He never knew the situation was that bad.

"Yeah, that's my ex for you!" Ron nodded with a knowing expression, downing the last of his beer. "I'm going to take a leak. If I'm not back in fifteen, you'd better come and save me," he joked, looking around suspiciously.

"That's a promise," Cal grinned, but as Ron got out of eyesight, his expression grew dark.

Poor Ron. People could be so brutal. No wonder Ron had snapped at work. Maybe Brian should think twice before telling Ron off.

 

Ron came back after a few minutes, and Cal stood up before Ron had a chance to sit down.

"Listen, let's go to _Steer_ , find some chicks and fuck their brains out."

Cal's face was serious, but Ron burst into laughter.

"That was the plan," Ron confirmed.

They fetched their coats and stepped out. It had started to drizzle again, and Cal made a displeased sound as he raised his collar up.

"I hate it when it rains all the time. If I had the money, I'd move to the Mediterranean and spend my days drinking margaritas at the beach.

"Not a bad idea," Ron agreed, slouching down the street after Cal.

*

Harry crouched lower behind the bush as the taxi stopped in front of Ron's apartment.

"This is where I live," Ron slurred to the man who stumbled out of the car after paying the fare. The man didn't answer but grasped Ron by his flaming red hair and pulled him closer. He kissed Ron long and hard, groping his arse with his other hand.

Across the street, under the Disillusionment Charm, Harry clenched his fingers into tight fists. He had never wanted to start tailing Ron, but the temptation had been too strong. He had changed his face and followed Ron and his friend all the evening. Eventually, their paths had separated, and Ron had returned to the same gay bar across from _Wallace_. Harry had changed his face again before following Ron just in time to witness his steaming kiss with the man who was dry humping him against his front door at the moment.

A couple of minutes later, Ron finally managed to get the lock open. The green door slammed shut after the entangled couple.

Harry considered for a moment whether he should get his Invisibility Cloak — the Muggle lock was no match for him — but then he sighed. He knew what was happening behind the closed door without seeing it in first-hand.

He Disapparated, leaving just a faint pop behind, and landed straight on the doorstep in the back of _Wallace_. He had to knock for a while before the lights turned on in the second floor window.

"Harry! Come in, come in," Billy urged as soon as he got the door open. He was wearing nothing but tartan wrapped haphazardly around his waist, and his hair was wildly dishevelled.

Harry slipped in and waited patiently as Billy charmed the door shot. It was dark in the back room; the only light was coming from upstairs.

"I need you," Harry said quietly when Billy finally turned to him.

"I guessed that much," Billy answered, pushing Harry to the stairs.

 

Billy's hands felt familiar and safe, and he undressed Harry slowly, his stubble roughening his sweet, wet kisses. As Harry came, he kept staring at Billy's grey eyes. He hoped that the blissful expression on Billy's face while he thrust in for the last time before coming apart, shaking all over, would make him forget about Ron.

But when Billy pulled Harry into a bear hug, squeezing him tightly and falling asleep almost immediately, Harry stayed awake, unable to not think about Ron.

He _should_ play with open cards, just like Billy had advised him, but would it make a difference anymore? The worst had happened, and his chances of getting Ron back were almost lost. But if he played his hand right, if he poured everything he had into his only chance left, then maybe...


	10. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron had a strange feeling that for several days now, he had done something he couldn't remember; something, which had left no memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> **Chapter Rating: PG-13**

  
**Chapter 10: Surprises**   


Again, Ron woke up by the shrilling sound of the doorbell.

"You'll never guess what happened!" Cal yelled, grabbing Ron by his shoulders and hopping around with him. "I won it! Finally, I won something!"

Ron kicked the door closed and leant on it. He pushed Cal further back as the nausea hit him; for a while, he thought he was going to throw up, but then the feeling passed. Ron grunted and shuffled back to the sofa, a whistling Cal right on his heels.

"So, what'd you win?" Ron asked with a tired voice as soon as he was back in a horizontal position.

"I won 'a vacation at an Exotic Mediterranean Island, where white sand creates an intriguing contrast with the turquoise of the ocean'," Cal read from the note he was scrunching in his hand. "You understand? I'm getting away from all this rainy shit for two whole weeks!"

"Congrats," Ron grunted.

Cal gave his friend a sympathetic glance. "I'm sorry but the trip is just for one."

Ron shrugged indifferently.

In reality, Cal had made a choice whether to have a two week trip for one person or a one week trip for two, but even though he felt sympathy towards Ron, the opportunity to escape from the UK had been too irresistible. Ron just had to cope with it.

"It must have been over a month ago when I filled out an application in a travel agency. I didn't even buy anything. I just happened to see the ad on the window. Unbelievable luck, don't you think?" Cal explained, still grinning broadly.

Ron kept lying on the sofa, looking pale and clammy, his eyes tightly shut. Cal leaned over him.

"Are you alright?"

"I'll manage. I came home late," Ron grunted. Cal laughed.

"I think you mean early. Did you come home with that red-haired girl? I lost the sight of you at some point."

Ron tried to remember what had happened last night, but his head weighed a million pounds and his thoughts just kept swirling around. 

"No idea. She's not here anymore — if she ever was," he mumbled and laid his hand on his forehead. It felt marvellously cool.

Cal stood up.

"I have to go, now, I just came by to break the good news. Now I'll have to see Brian. He'll probably sack me for telling him this late."

Ron cracked his eyelids. "When are you leaving?"

"Tonight!" Cal exclaimed, waving his ticket in the air. "A true last minute trip, but you don't hear me complaining!"

"Oh. Well, see you when you come back."

"See you," Cal assured, patting Ron's shoulder a couple of times. "Try to cheer up, will you?"

 

Ron didn't truly realise what had happened until he was walking to his workplace sometime later. Brian probably wouldn't even try to hire a replacement since Cal had left with such short notice, so Ron would have to take care of the cloakroom all by himself.

He cursed. For some time, everything had been falling apart, but these last two days had been an absolute nightmare. Ron wasn't happy for Cal anymore, just bitter about the turn things had taken. With Cal, even work had felt like fun.

In addition, Ron had a strange feeling that for several days now, he had done something he couldn't remember; something, which had left no memories. It appeared that the long alcohol streak was finally taking effect, and it made Ron even angrier. Everything had truly started going to hell.

On the other hand, Harry had come back.

That thought hit Ron just as he stepped in the _Bollocks_ back door. To his surprise, and in spite of his irritation, he realised how much he had missed Harry.

 

Fortunately, Ron could do his job without thinking, and even though his thoughts were far away from the brightly lit cloakroom of the _Bollocks_ , his customer service was in order. A couple of times, he had to struggle to keep a smile on his face, but all in all, the evening went along moderately.

Cal would be gone for two weeks, and in the meantime, Ron would have to work hard enough for two persons. Brian had stated matter-of-factly, remembering clearly what had happened the previous night, that Ron would have to manage alone.

Ron was more worried about after the shift. Since his first night in the _Bollocks_ , he had spent every night together with Cal. Ron didn't even want to recall those first weeks in London when he had known no-one. On several occasions, he had almost returned back to Hogsmeade, or even to the Burrow, but had persisted thanks to his bitterness.

Cal had been a great chum, even a friend. With him it had been easy to spend time and forget about the past.

It was getting near seven, which meant that half of the shift was already done, and Ron felt the panic rising. What the hell would he do after work? It had occurred to him that Cal might never come back; maybe he would find a new job in the perpetual sunshine and would rather stay there than return to the rainy London. Ron almost dropped a jacket as his fingers went numb for a second.

 

He was still feeling a bit shaky when Brian came to relieve him for his break.

"Twenty minutes," Brian said under his breath, before hurrying to welcome a new customer with a sickening smile on his face.

Ron trundled to the backroom and slumped by the table, feeling glum. He buried his face in his hands, trying to make himself believe that everything was going to be alright. Maybe he ought to owl Harry; nevertheless, he had come back to the UK from far away.

Truth be told, Ron had missed Harry. His departure had changed Ron's life excruciatingly, and even though Ron had tried to deny grieving, it hadn't made it disappear.

He was lost in his thoughts until a loud argument broke out behind the door. Suddenly, the door opened, and Cal burst in, his expression dark as a thundercloud. Ron bounced up puzzled by Cal's sudden appearance but didn't have a chance to utter a single word before Cal let out such a string of profanities that even Ron was impressed.

It took several minutes before Cal calmed down enough for Ron to ask him what had happened. Cal snorted derisively and grabbed a beer from the case at the corner of the room — even though it was strictly forbidden during work time.

"Fucking morons! They'd made a mistake at the travel agency. The real winner is that old bat Mrs Oakley from downstairs," Cal ranted, gulping down half the beer before continuing the swearing.

Eventually, Ron, who was half-relieved and half-upset for Cal, learned how Cal had arrived at Heathrow and waited at the check-in for so long that his plane had already departed. When the officials had realised that Cal, who was in his twenties, couldn't possibly be Mrs Adelaide Oakley, a 71-year-old widow, he had been sent home along with mild apologies.

"Well, darn! Wasn't that unlucky," Ron grinned as soon as Cal stopped talking for a second. Cal eyeballed Ron but couldn't stay angry for long — soon they were both laughing aloud, patting each other's backs.

"I wish I could see Mrs Oakley's face when they tell her about the prize! I'll bet a million that she won't go," Cal cackled. Then his eyes went huge. "Maybe she'd sell it to me?"

Ron scoffed, opening a beer. "Listen, Cal, just forget about the trip."

For a moment, Cal looked disappointed but then he smiled again.

"I guess you're right. And it's not that I have any money. Or a job for that matter..."

"Brian didn't take you back?" Ron reeled.

"No. Just let me in for couple of minutes so I could talk to you."

Ron was silent for a moment. Then he started to pile beer bottles on the table, stuffing a few in his pockets. Some of them he pushed in front of Cal.

"Umm, what's the plan?" Cal asked hesitantly. Ron looked quite maniacal.

"Hide those. Let's take my payoff money and get out of here. I just had my fill of Brian's bullying!" Ron declared cramming yet another bottle under his belt. "Now, let's go and tell him off!"


	11. Sounding Brass, or a Clanging Cymbal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry surely wasn't... Ron shook his head and snorted. It was impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> **Chapter Rating: EXPLICIT  
>  Warnings: Heavy drinking & adult themes i.e. SEX!**

  
**Chapter 11: Sounding Brass, or a Clanging Cymbal**   


For once, Ron woke up without a hangover. They had had a few drinks with Cal the previous night, but not too many. There had been more talking and less getting pissed. Ron had to admit that the change was not that bad.

After Cal had stopped venting his temper, the discussion had grown more personal. At first, Ron had been irritated by all the questions, but eventually Cal had persuaded him to tell about the history of Harry and him. Cal had already known that Harry had been sent by Hermione to bring Ron back home, but what Ron hadn't told him before was what Harry was to him.

Ron sat down by the kitchen table and magicked up a cup of tea. That really was the question: what was Harry to him? He sipped the tea, staring out of the window.

Seeing Harry after all those years had awakened old memories: their time in Hogwarts, their stern friendship. Even though Hermione had been the one with whom Ron had always believed in growing old, Harry had been his best friend. Truth be told, Harry had been the first one who Ron told about getting an internship in the Ministry. It had never occurred to him to wonder why he hadn't thought of Hermione first.

 

After the tea had cooled off in his cup, Ron decided to do something to his apartment. The hard physical labour would clear his mind of thoughts he didn't recognize or wanted to think. He scrubbed, vacuumed, and mopped. He worked without magic just to keep himself busy for longer. He sang loudly along with old rock hits, miles out of tune, while waving the duster.

It was already evening when Ron finally sat down on his bed, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He looked around astonished how tidy the apartment was. He had banished several piles of garbage while excavating the floor that he'd last seen months ago. Now it was so clean it was almost shining. His Mum would have been proud of him.

Ron snorted, picturing Molly here in his apartment, but concentrated quickly on other matters before ending up homesick. Just then, his mobile rang. It was Cal.

"S'up?" Ron answered while heading towards the kitchen to raid his fridge.

"Not bad, not bad. Listen, I decided to cook tonight, it's been a while. Want to come for a taste?"

Ron laughed.

"So, you also have some extra energy today. You're never gonna believe it, but I just cleaned up my apartment. Voluntarily! I even mopped the floors!" he declared.

Cal chuckled.

"Once you manage to wake up without a hangover, you actually have time to do something else. Well, how about the dinner?"

"Sounds great. What time should I come?"

"Umm, I guess couple of hours..." Cal mumbled under his breath. "Seven okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine. See you then," Ron agreed and hung up. He had plenty of time to shower and make himself presentable.

*

Ron leaned back and grunted.

"Cal, that was spectacular! I had no idea you could cook so well!"

Cal grinned and filled Ron's glass with deep red wine.

"Live and learn," he said, pouring the last of the wine down his throat before standing up. "More?" he asked and went to the kitchen without waiting for the answer. "Oops, we're out of wine."

Ron spun around, startled. "Out of wine?"

"Yeah. But luckily I've been saving this Scotch for a special occasion," Cal quipped, winking at Ron.

Ron snorted; Cal was a true comedian. Well, Ron had absolutely nothing against it as long as there was more alcohol.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" he joked, slumping down on the sofa with his wineglass. Cal followed him and poured some whisky into the two glasses on the table.

"What if I am?" Cal said. Ron's eyes glazed over for a second, and then Cal slapped his shoulder and laughed aloud. "You think I'm gonna be the only drunk and stupid one here tonight?"

Ron grinned sheepishly.

 

There was less than half the bottle left, and both Ron and Cal were definitely drunk, concentrating on a steaming debate.

"You're wrong!" Ron roared. "If Harry really was my friend, do you think he'd've disappeared for years?"

"He must've had a good reason!" Cal yelled, and then lowered his eyes to his glass. He whirled the amber liquid around its edges, and then glanced at Ron. "Did he tell you why he left?"

"Yeah," Ron muttered, recalling Harry's visit. Had it really just been yesterday?

"Well, was it a good reason?"

"No," Ron snapped. Then he thought about it for a second. "Unless you think about how Harry'd think. Then I guess it was. But still... We were best friends at school and afterwards, too. We did _everything_ together! And then, after the wedding, Harry just disappeared, just like that..."

Ron's foggy brain figured something out, and his talk died down. He had never thought about it that way, but now as he made a list of everything that had happened back then and looked at it in a peculiar way, he started to see the cause and effect. Why hadn't he seen it before? But it couldn't be right. Harry surely wasn't... Ron shook his head and snorted. It was impossible.

"Well?" Cal asked, sounding puzzled.

"Nothing, nothing. It's just that getting drunk makes you think some really mad stuff."

"What mad stuff? Tell me. I like hearing about mad stuff. And talking about it, too," Cal said, laughing.

"Eh," Ron hesitated but as Cal kept prompting him, he caved rather quickly. "Just that if Harry was a girl, his behaviour would actually make some sense."

Cal's smile faded, but Ron failed to notice it.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he left right after I got married with Hermione," Ron explained, marvelling how easy it was to say her name. Maybe it was the whisky. "Then he came back right after we broke up. What'd you think if a girl did that?"

Cal gulped down last of his Scotch, but didn't answer.

"You'd think that she likes you," Ron answered his own question, staring at the opposite wall. "And, that she couldn't watch you being with someone else."

Ron was drowning in his memories, remembering a snippet from here, another from there. Most clearly he recalled how at his wedding, he had found Harry sitting alone, down in the dumps. He also recalled what had crossed his mind then. But it had been the last time they had seen each other before this week.

"Maybe it doesn't matter if he's a boy or a girl. Maybe that's exactly how he thought," Cal said after a while.

Ron jumped. He had forgotten about Cal.

"That's insane!" he exclaimed, grabbing the bottle. He filled his glass up and poured half of it down his throat. "Harry's not gay," he said and continued as an afterthought, "and neither am I."

Cal muttered something, but Ron didn't know if it was agreeing or disagreeing.

"I'm taking a leak," he blurted and got up. Cal nodded.

Ron leant against the bathroom wall, holding his dick. He was swearing aloud. The evening was quickly going to the sewers if they stayed on that subject. Ron really wasn't in the mood for talking about Harry. It was best left for more clear headed times. Right now there were some extremely messed up images in his head, and he could not make any sense of them.

Finally, he buttoned up and flushed the toilet before arranging his features into an indecent smirk.

"If we're not going to hook up with birds tonight, then we got to watch some porn!" he insisted, after returning the living room.

Cal laughed long and hard, before stumbling off the sofa to check his collection.

 

The whisky was gone, and Ron was still unquestionably drunk. It had been tasty, but it had ended too soon. There should have been another bottle, 'cause there were two mouths. One man, one bottle.

"Bottle, b-bottle, bottle," Ron hummed with the Hava Nagila tune, drawing himself up at the end of the sofa. His jeans felt tight.

"Whaa?" Cal slurred from the other end, turning his gaze off the naked couple on the screen.

"I'm horny," Ron blurted out and looked at Cal, his head leaning against the back rest. "My horn is horny. Haha, horn is horny. Didya get it?"

Cal sniggered for a while, and then laid his hand on top of his groin; his trousers seemed rather tight, too.

"Gotta wank," he muttered, his eyes still on Ron.

Cal's announcement sounded more like a question, and there was a needy glint in his eyes. Ron was so drunk that he thought nothing of slapping his monkey while sitting besides Cal. In a way, it made it feel even better. So, he let out a sound of agreement and drew his heavy arm slowly onto his groin.

The buttons didn't cooperate; opening them felt too overwhelming, especially now as they were bulging because of his semi-erection. It was nothing, though, compared to the difficulties he got into when Cal unzipped and grabbed his own bulky cock. He stroked it slowly, not once glancing at the telly.

Ron moistened his lips; he couldn't care less about the panting and moaning, either. He barely heard their sounds. It was like they were coming from underwater; they went straight to his dick, making it vibrate. When he finally glanced at Cal's face, he realised that Cal had been staring at him the whole time.

"Can't make it?" Cal asked, his voice rough. He nodded at Ron's groin.

Ron didn't answer, just licked his lips again. He stopped trying to unbutton and just stroked his erection through the infuriatingly thick jeans. His eyes were fixed on Cal's fingers, sliding up and down on his cock, once in a while twisting over the head.

"Let me help you," Cal said suddenly, moving next to Ron with unexpected dexterity. He opened the buttons quickly, spreading the fly open wide before looking at Ron's eyes. They were both leaning against the back rest, their faces maybe an inch apart, smelling the whisky on each other's breath.

Again, Ron's tongue flicked between his lips, this time capturing Cal's gaze.

"Let me help you," Cal whispered again, sliding his hand into Ron's pants.

Ron gasped as Cal pulled his throbbing dick out. The hand felt _strange_ , but also so good that Ron couldn't make himself say or do anything. He just kept staring at Cal, who kept staring at him, his gaze skimming between Ron's eyes and cock, his breath rapid and shallow.

Ron pushed against Cal's hand, moaning aloud as Cal formed a tight ring with his fingers that Ron could penetrate again, and again, and again.

Suddenly, Cal pressed his lips against Ron's and thrust his tongue in his mouth, kissing him fiercely. Ron squeezed his eyes shut and answered the kiss — brushing their tongues together, sucking the lips, nibbling, groaning. And all the time, Ron was fucking Cal's hand, the stars flickering behind his eyes, glowing brighter and brighter, until finally, his head lolled back, his back arched and his fingers clutched the sofa under him, knuckles white.

"Harryyyyyyyh!" Ron yelled, because for some unfathomable reason, while squirting his sperm on Cal's hand, not to mention his own jeans or the coffee table, he saw Harry's face in front of him so clearly, like he was in the same room with him.

Then, Ron's consciousness shut down, and he passed out.


	12. Hopeth All Things, Endureth All Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry lowered his head to his hands and rubbed his tired eyes. He had no clue what to say or how to explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> **Chapter Rating: EXPLICIT  
>  Warnings: Rough language & adult themes i.e. SEX!**

  
**Chapter 12: Hopeth All Things, Endureth All Things**   


Harry leant on the slick bathroom wall, his head drooping under the shower. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in as much steam as air. Now that he had stayed in that position for the last ten minutes, it started to feel like the day could finally begin.

Night had been restless. In his dreams, Harry had taken Ron over and over again, and every single time Ron had come screaming Harry's name. Their kisses had been deep and passionate, and the mere memory of them made Harry's cock throb.

He stroked it idly, still leaning on the tiles. The water was cascading down his back. He recalled vividly how Ron had looked as Harry had been riding him with all the skill he could muster. He remembered how Ron's swollen lips had formed a round letter O, and how he had breathed rapidly, superficially. How he had screwed his blue eyes shut, but as the peak was getting nearer, they had opened wide, pupils dilated to the extreme, as he had come apart, squirting his sticky cum all over Harry.

Harry hastened the speed and pinched his sensitive nipples, gasping aloud.

Again, he saw Ron as clearly as if he had been in front of him. And as Harry imagined leaning closer to Ron's naked body, kissing his freckle covered skin everywhere, tasting the salt of his sweat, hearing his intense sighs... Harry's testicles contracted, and he changed his grip, concentrating more on the swollen tip. He twisted his hand, and then formed a tight ring with his fingers that he could penetrate with sharp, fast thrusts.

The running water muted his shout as he came on the glistening wall, shaking all over.

He collapsed against the wall and just panted for a while. There wasn't a single thought in his head apart from Ron. And for a couple glorious moments Harry imagined how it would be to live with Ron. To be able to touch him every day, sleep with him every night. His lips turned into a blissful smile, until he crashed back to reality, into the small, steamy shower cubicle, and the smile died away.

Ron wasn't his reality, and considering how messy things were at the moment, Ron was probably never going to be his reality. But as long as Harry had just one way to go, he would continue.

He dried himself before wiping the fog off the mirror. For a moment, he stared at his reflection, then brushed the wet fringe off of his eyes and turned around, wrapping the moist towel around him. His bare feet squelched against the floor as he reached out to open the door.

But there was someone waiting for him, and that someone had him at wand point.

*

Ron's hand was shaking like hell, but still he kept his wand pointed at Cal's bare chest.

"Who are you?" he asked with a high-pitched voice.

"What's the matter?"

"I found the Polyjuice Potion. Who are you and what're you doing in Cal's apartment?"

"Ballyjuice... What? And what the hell do you mean? I _am_ Cal and this _is_ my apartment!"

Ron stared at Cal, furrowing his brow. He had been absolutely sure that the flask he had found in Cal's jacket pocket had been full of Polyjuice Potion. Could he have been mistaken?

"Excuse me, but I'm going to get some clothes, now."

Ron backed away, brandishing his wand. "Stop!"

"Watch it where you're poking with it!"

Right then, Ron realised that Cal hadn't yet wondered why he was waving a wooden stick in his hand. Also, Cal froze to the spot the second Ron had moved his wand, ready to cast a spell.

"But if it's just a wooden stick, why worry so much?" he asked, taking another step. "You couldn't possibly know what happens if I say, for example, _Stup—_ "

"Okay, okay! Just put it down before you take an eye out."

Ron didn't lower his wand but pointed to the sofa with it, forcing Cal to sit down. He kept pacing around in front of the telly.

"The Polyjuice Potion only lasts for an hour, and you were in the shower half of it. We'll soon find out," he muttered to himself, eyeballing Cal at the same time. It turned out that he was right, since it took less than five minutes before Cal started the shaking.

Ron stopped dead, bracing himself. On the other hand, Cal, or whoever he was, didn't have a wand. But Ron was having such a terrible hangover that his aim was bound to be off, even from the close distance.

Now Cal's face was bubbling and his hands swelled double their size before shrinking back until they were smaller than before. His legs were shortening rapidly. The blond hair was changing its colour to raven black.

Ron stared, horrified, because whatever he had been prepared for, whatever he had believed to be revealed from underneath Cal's disguise, he surely hadn't thought of this, not even in his wildest dreams.

"Harry?" Ron blurted out as the familiar scar appeared on the forehead.

Harry lowered his head to his hands and rubbed his tired eyes. He had no clue what to say or how to explain. He dared a glance at Ron, but could see him only as a smudge.

"May I get my glasses? I can't see a thing," he asked with a subdued voice.

"No," Ron blurted out.

"They are right there," Harry tried again, pointing at the kitchen, "On top of the fridge."

Ron glared at Harry, but flicked his wand towards the kitchen.

_"Accio, Harry's glasses!"_

He grabbed the flying spectacles and threw them at Harry.

"Explain."

"Okay... First of all, I'm really sorry about this. I didn't mean it to go this far, but..."

"But what?"

"It was the only way! I thought that maybe Cal could make you talk about it, since you wouldn't talk to _me_ , and then I bought him the trip and took some Polyjuice."

Ron was boiling. How dare he!

"Have you fucking lost your mind?! I don't know about abroad, but here we don't usually pretend to be other people!"

Harry kept rumpling his hair and stole a glance at Ron.

"But it helped, at least a bit."

"What're you talking about?" Ron snapped and started to pace back and forth again.

"Don't you remember what we talked about last night?"

"We didn't talk about anything," Ron muttered, adding a few swear words for a good measure.

"When you realised why I left in the first place?" Harry continued. Did Ron really not remember?

Ron halted and stared at Harry. He scoured his brain, trying to remember what he had said the previous night. Something about Harry and how the time of his departure and return had aligned with the end of his marriage. It had something to do with a fact which Ron had understood for the first time yesterday, but it was so hard to remember when his brain felt like pudding.

"I don't remember any of that," he snapped eventually. "I'm just trying to decide whether I should notify the Office of Improper Use of Magic or just owl your boss."

Harry sighed. "Ron, listen up."

"Nothing, I mean NOTHING, gives you the right to polyjuice yourself into Cal! It's worse than lying to my face!"

"But, it was the only way—" Harry started, but Ron cut him short.

"Why the hell was it so important to talk to me? What do you want? Now you can talk, and you'd better start explaining pretty fast!"

Harry startled as Ron got him at wand point again. He swallowed before squaring his shoulders.

"You said it yourself yesterday. If I were a woman, it would all make sense," he blurted, before lowering his eyes to his knees.

With Harry's words, the conversation from the night before came back to Ron, and he dropped his jaw. He remembered how Harry's sudden disappearance had finally made sense — not to mention his reappearing, but he also recalled how ridiculous everything had felt.

This time he wasn't laughing.

"You... You like me? I mean... I mean that way...?" Ron stammered and waved his hands around.

Harry swallowed again and nodded. He was so wound up he couldn't speak. Finally, after all these years, Ron knew about his feelings! Harry couldn't help but think that Ron's next words would settle it once and for all.

"Umm," Ron said, shifting weight from one foot to another. "So, you're some kind of gay, right?"

"Well... yeah," Harry admitted, shrugging. "I guess liking you makes me one."

Ron scratched his neck, and his ears went red.

"How long've you... I mean, been, umm, liking me?"

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes again. He missed his morning coffee.

"I'm not sure. You were always the more important one from the two of you, but I guess I finally figured it out when you got together with Hermione."

"What about Ginny?"

"Ginny, well... I guess we started dating just because it looked like the only right option. But she always felt more like a sister to me. I mean, we got along just fine, but I don't think I ever loved her quite the right way..."

Ron stayed quiet. He was hunching his shoulders, his arms hanging limply on his sides, and was staring at his toes.

"And, when you got married with Hermione..." Harry swallowed; his throat was dry as a sand paper. "Well, it was hard for me."

He looked at Ron, but he didn't look back, just kept his eyes fixed on his wiggling toes amid the nylon pile.

"Until that, I kept hoping that maybe someday you could... could..."

Now, Ron raised his widened eyes to Harry.

"I could what?" he asked incredulously.

"That you could like me like I like you," Harry ended his cumbersome sentence. It was probably the hardest thing he had ever done in his life.

Ron snorted.

"I'm _not_ gay!" he snapped, his face as red as a beetroot.

"But... What about all those men? What about last night?" Harry spluttered.

"What men?" Ron huffed. "I happen to like women."

"I saw you!" Harry shouted, getting up from the sofa. "I saw you coming home, and you were with a man! And last night..."

"What the hell? Have you been following me?!"

"I just happened to see you in a gay bar, and then, yeah, I followed you to your place."

"You're lying!" Ron bellowed. "I'm not gay!"

Harry crossed his arms, and his eyes went narrow. He didn't care anymore that he wanted Ron to feel like he did; now he was just pissed. He was not a liar!

"Oh, and what was it last night when you were cumming in my hand, yelling my name? Just remembering the good old times, right?"

Ron was shaking with rage. Harry's words cut deep and twisted a knife in his self-esteem. Unbelievable. After all he had done, Harry still had a nerve to accuse Ron for being some kind of a _faggot!_ His face was so red it was almost blue, and he was so angry that no words came from his mouth. He had to force himself to take a deep breath, close his eyes for a moment, before he threw Harry a look that could kill.

"I don't know what you're getting at, but I've had enough of this shit. From now on, you stay away from me, you _freak!_ "

Ron marched to the hallway and out of the front door, slamming it shut behind him. The glass-covered picture on the wall beside the door fell down and crashed into pieces, but Harry ignored it. He stood paralyzed, his mind frozen, as his anger burned away, leaving him in a hopeless shock.

*

"You did what?" Hermione cried out so loudly, that Harry shied away reflexively. Fred grabbed her hand and squeezed it in a calming way, but his face had lost its colour, too.

"I was an ass. It's just that it was the only way I could think of," Harry mumbled, massaging his temples.

"But..." Hermione started to say, but for once, she seemed to have lost her ability to form coherent sentences. "So, you just...?"

Harry nodded.

"Since when?" This time it was Fred who asked the question, but judging from Hermione's eager expression, it had been on her mind, too.

"I don't know," Harry said. "From school, I guess. I just didn't really see it before your wedding."

"But... He doesn't feel the same way?"

Harry lowered his eyes to the table, and he didn't have to answer. Hermione sighed deeply.

"Why, Harry? Why didn't you just tell him straight?" she asked desperately.

Harry scratched his head and glanced at her sharply, making her blush. They had something in common.

 

After Ron's stormy departure, Harry had Disapparated to his own apartment. He had taken a couple of days leave and just sat, thinking. Eventually, it had come to him that he had absolutely no clue how to continue. So, naturally, he resorted to the one solution he could always count on: turning to Hermione for advice. Now, all three of them were in the Burrow, huddled around the long kitchen table, staring at each other. Molly would return any minute now, and Harry had to have his answer before that.

"Tell me what to do?" he asked frantically. "How can I fix this?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sobbed miserably. She flew around the table and pulled Harry into a hug, blinking her teary eyes.

"There must be a way," Harry whispered, almost to himself.

Hermione wept, holding Harry even tighter. Again, she didn't answer, and from the corner of his eye, Harry saw Fred bury his face into his hands.

"It can't end like this," Harry breathed. "It can't..."

No one answered him. Neither Hermione nor Fred tried to convince him that the situation was fixable. Finally, Harry had a revelation: there was no way to overcome this. He saw every single mistake on the road, all the wrong choices, and the dead end in which they had lead him. He could choose differently no more. He could never cancel the wrongs he had made.

He had lost Ron. Forever.


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since then, Harry had just tried to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This story is AU in the sense that Fred, Tonks and Remus are alive but George & Percy are dead. There's no Teddy, nor there is the marriage of Tonks/Remus. It really doesn't matter, anyhow, because the story concentrates on relationships, there's really not so much plot in this :P Oh, Harry's an Auror, but Ron's not. Should I also warn you about top!Harry?
> 
> **Chapter Rating: PG-13**

  
**Epilogue**

 

_Two years later_   


Harry leant against the taut wall of the marquee, smiling as he watched Ginny and Gavin dancing. She deserved every drop of good in her life, and Harry didn't feel a tiny bit of bitterness about not being the one to offer her that. Gavin was a kind, solid man, yet he had a sense of humour that Harry approved of. He hadn't even flinched when Ginny had told about being a witch. However, they had decided to withhold the information from his family; that was the reason behind the non-magical wedding party at the Burrow; at least, no magic was to be seen.

Harry loosened his tie and sipped some Scotch from his glass. Returning to the Burrow had felt weird. It was like a childhood home for him, full of warm memories of a loving family, but on the other hand... it made him remember Ron.

He emptied the glass and winced.

Two weeks after the row, Harry had written a long letter to Ron but had never gotten an answer. Perhaps Ron had ripped the envelope into pieces before even opening it — Harry didn't know. He hadn't had the nerve to approach Ron, not after his bitter words, until one late autumn day, he had finally given in to his desire to see Ron. Harry was sitting in the shadow of the same bush, across from Ron's apartment, for hours, and it wasn't until a young couple had got in through the green door that Harry had realised Ron must have moved away who knows how long ago.

Since then, Harry had just tried to forget.

He lived a shadow of a life, keeping his wits by working around the clock — he even slept on the sofa he'd magicked in the coffee room at the Ministry. It had taken a year before Harry had gotten over it enough to even meet with some of his friends. Next winter had been better.

The wedding invitation had surprised him. During all these years, Harry had seen Ginny just a handful of times, and even during those occasions, they never spoke more than a few words to each other. But perhaps Ginny had been able to forgive him, even though he never got up the nerve to ask for her forgiveness aloud.

At that precise moment, Harry and Ginny looked at each other. Harry raised his glass to the bride. Ginny smiled, and Harry smiled back in a natural, relaxed way. Smiling had become easier lately, and now, as almost two years had passed from that catastrophic morning, Harry was a little less in pieces.

Now he could at least rejoice for his friends' happiness.

He put the glass on the table and stretched his legs. Inhaling the bubbling, almost sparkling atmosphere, Harry smiled as he noticed that the guests had formed a jig-circle. Maybe he could join the dance, too.

 

**_THE END_ **

 

(...but there IS the sequel!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, so... all good things endeth someday. Actually, no matter if it's good or bad, it'll end one day :D This story was written (in Finnish) mostly in two stages. The first time in 2006 and 2007, and then the last chapters in 2011. I was so excited to finish this story that I started a sequel right away! The same day I posted the first chapter of the sequel, Two Is Company, Three's A Crowd, (well, the Finnish version Kahden kauppa, kolmannen korvapuusti i.e. KKKK) I posted the first chapter of Without Grace. My bold vision was to translate Ei armoa -> Without Grace the same time I would finish the sequel. Well, I partly succeeded :D Atm. I'm translating the sequel, I think I have five chapters already done, and I'll be posting it here on AO3 asap. You can already find the first chapters on ff-net, though, if the story caught your attention.
> 
> Phew, that was a long A/N. I'll be shutting up now. Feel free to say something if you can spare a minute!


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